#this was way more poetic in my head actually...

[zepskies]

Oh God, here we go...

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth.

Wow, this bit of description struck me right away. What a lovely and devastatingly poetic way of conveying this...

Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Oh Barlen, pls. 😭 I just knew he'd be feeling this way. My heart is breaking for both of them really. 💙💙 But of course they're both blaming themselves (perhaps Beau even more so than her). His admission that he wasn't ready to see them together again broke my heart for the 15th time, dear God. 🥲🥲

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love. He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

Oh dude, something tells me he couldn't be more wrong about her and how she feels... Or at least, I hope he's wrong? 🫠

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you.

"Calcified" just really hit me in this moment. Along with "whiskey-colored" -- you're so very good at painting a vivid picture through your word choice.

In a way, her and Randy are so sweet together. It feels calm and warm and familiar, but maybe not quite right anymore? At least for her? As opposed to when she goes to Beau in the scene right after--them two together are just sparks flying off the stove. With them, there's actual passion.

But backing up to the Randy scene -- I really like how you played it and his accepting personality. Like, I know it's been a few years and you've probably moved on already. I guess we're not married anymore? But we could just get married again? loll Poor guy. As if surviving what he went through wasn't enough, now he's going to have to deal with the fact that his wife is head over heels in love with his best friend now. ❤️‍🩹

She's really not the same. Not only because of Beau, but because she's been through too much after Randy's "death."

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break. Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Goddamn it, Beau!! Can you give her, like, a minute to adjust before you already decide you're "nothin'" and she's not gonna pick you? For God's sake. 😭😭 (But totally on brand for him. Great characterization. Sigh.)

“Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Just keep pummeling my heart, that's fine. 🙃

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one.

Okay, but he was so focused on Randy's reactions, he didn't bother to watch her reactions, her struggle, and her reluctance.

“You ain’t nothing.”

What a romcom movie moment, I love it!!!

I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I.

I'm with Beau on this one--please let her really, truly mean this and not change her mind and leave him later, because I don't think my heart could take it. 😭😭

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips.

How I love these little moments of softness and tenderness in between the amazingly hot ones. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 And I feel like Beau probably really needs that right now--that reassurance.

Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him.

Ahh I love a callback to the title! 🥹✨

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Ugh, God, my Latina heart sang on that last bit! 😭 But girl, you outdid yourself on this chapter. I can honestly say that was some of the most stellar romantic smut I've ever read. 👌🏽😮‍💨❤️‍🔥

Aaaaand now I'm both excited and scared to see how Randy handles this news. 😬 Something tells me he's not going to take this news as well as the other stuff...

Polaris – Chapter 9

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ramp up the angst, guilt trips all around, hospitals, bits of fluff in all the chaos, smut (with a heavy dose of more angst)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Well, there was no way this wasn't going to be angsty af. Enjoy the ride, loves! 😘

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: Marooned

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life.

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands cupping your head when your own grew too tired to hold it. He rested his forehead against yours, green eyes leveling with you. His thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Beau bargained, his voice a soft whisper. His disavowing mind refused to accept what his breaking heart knew to be true.

However, there was no doubt in yours. “No, I’m sure it’s him.”

“It still might not be true… It could be one of those CGI deep-fakes. You know, they’ve gotten crazy good… She just wants to mess with us,” Beau tried to reason, every bone in his body fighting to accept the truth. Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Your eyes lifted from the ground, your gaze boring into his. “You really believe that?” Your voice was harsh enough to break through the solid brick barrier he had erected over his heart, your words a wrecking ball. A jittery and hesitant lick of his lips was his abdication. He lowered his head in resignation. “How’s that even possible? You saw him die, right?

Beau’s mouth opened without an answer, his eyes flickered alive with memories. Panic rose with realization and poisoned the pumping blood that coursed through his heart. “I-I saw him get dragged away… I heard the shot.”

He was sure. He was so, so, so sure. And then, it all fell apart. What had he done?

You straightened up, slipping out of his grasp, and clasped your mouth, turning your back to him as your body rattled with shock. “Oh my God… Oh God…”

Beau rose to his feet behind you and swallowed harshly as the realization hit him like a freight train. He wanted to reach out and touch you, needing you now more than ever, but he didn’t know if he still could. His mind raced a mile a minute with questions he couldn’t find an answer to.

How was Randy still alive? Had the cartel kept him all this time? How did Diane find out? And how the hell did she get a hold of him?

“Y/N, I-… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trembled. He could feel you drift further and further away from him till you were just a dot out on the vast ocean. He didn’t want to lose you but didn’t know how to stop it, either. He thought all he needed was for you to just look at him, and it would all be right again. But when you did, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“All this time he was alive and God knows where. I-I could’ve looked for him. I could’ve helped him…”

“You didn’t know,” Beau said softly, pushing your blame onto himself. He could’ve known. He should’ve known. He felt helpless, lost, adrift. “Y/N, what d’you want me to do?”

You needed a moment to clear your head enough to think straight. If it wasn’t Randy but any other victim, what would you do next?

“We need to find that bunker. Get him outta there,” you concluded. “You think he’s still alive? You think she’d kill him?”

Recalling the snippet of the video, you remembered the timeline only read an hour instead of the usual forty-eight. It wasn’t about making you suffer through his death because you’d already done that. Diane just wanted you to see.

Beau knew there were only two possible options. Either Diane caught Randy only to show he was still alive and then kill him, or she brought him back into your life to wreak havoc. But the hows and whys didn’t really matter. Both options would cause a rift between you two wider than the Grand Canyon. If Randy was back, dead or alive, Beau’s relationship with you wouldn’t survive it.

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love.

He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

“I don’t know,” Beau replied and forced some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t know for how long he had held his breath. For a minute there, he had forgotten how to breathe at all – and he didn’t even care.

The ringing of your phone broke both of you out of your haze and fatal fantasies. You fished it out of your pocket and stared at the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Who is it?”

“Unknown caller,” you replied before you answered the phone, pinning it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello? Yes, this her…”

Beau watched as your eyes widened, how your brow rose, how your mouth fell open, how your heart stopped. As you hung up, he could see you swallow before you found his eyes. He waited with bated breath for news he already knew.

“That was the hospital here. They said someone brought in my husband.”

The stone silent ten-minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Beau drove, his grip stiff and knuckle-white around the steering wheel. The heat of the old Jeep had barely kicked in by the time you arrived, your hot breaths coming out in vaporizing clouds as you bit your nails bloody and down to their beds on the passenger’s seat. Neither of you spoke a word, too terrified it would cut the last string between you that still tied you to each other.

As the bright sign of the hospital came into view, your heart thudded in your ears, so loudly you could barely hear the world around you anymore. Everything was subdued and distorted as if someone was holding your head underwater. All you wanted was air, but your lungs flooded with water.

Beau killed the engine in the parking lot. Both of you sat there in silence and petrified in time, two fossils buried deep in the earth and uncovered by archeologists with fine brushes millions of years later.

His gaze drifted up to the star-filled sky, green eyes locked on the North Star. He wished he could rewind the tape to that night, all the way back to the start where the two of you were still alive. His eyes then swerved to your hand that lay there untouched on the edge of your seat, his own palm twitching to hold it in his.

“You want me to come in with you?” Beau asked carefully.

It was the first time since you’d left the Sheriff’s Department that you looked at him again. Your eyes were pleading. “Of course I do. Please don’t go. Don’t let me do this alone.”

Then, you saw it – the flicker of relief that flashed through him. You recognized the insecurity and apprehension in his eyes. Your heart dropped. You had been so consumed by the news, you hadn’t noticed how he had spiraled. You clasped his hand tightly in yours. He squeezed it desperately back. He was drowning, and your touch was the lifeline he had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I don’t know if I’m ready to see you with him,” Beau confessed. He had endangered his best friend, deserted him, and left him to die. And that wasn’t even the worst he’d done. The worst was you.

“Me neither,” you admitted and interlaced your fingers with his. “We’ll take it step by step, okay?”

He nodded.

As the nurse sent you down the hallway to your believed-to-be-dead but actually only-long-lost husband, you didn’t know what to expect as your hand lingered on the door handle.

Beau could not only feel the tension in your body but physically see it. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders, the tremble in your hands, and the twitch in your eyes were a dead giveaway.

As you felt Beau behind you with a hesitant palm resting on your lower back, you wondered if you should tell Randy. You supposed you had to at some point. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

You had been so focused on what awaited you in that room, you hadn’t thought about what your husband expected. Or was it ex? Did he know you had moved on? Were you still allowed to? Would he be happy for you? Would he let you go? Would he hate you for it? He probably would, considering who you ended up with. Or maybe you had it all wrong, and he would be relieved it was someone he loved, too. Wouldn’t you be if the roles were reversed?

His death had severed your ties, but now that he was back, were your vows, too? Did he even know everyone thought he was dead? Had you cheated? Was that what Diane had been trying to tell you? That you had sinned? That you were a liar? That you were awful? That you were a whore?

“Should I-, uhm…”

“No,” Beau answered your dangling question as if he could read your mind. He dropped his hand from your back and ceased all contact, even going as far as taking a step back. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you were radioactive. That should’ve been answer enough. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” The rejection hurt, but you understood. This was hard for him, too. Maybe even harder. You had to weather the storm alone, ship-wrecked and marooned on a desolate island.

“You wanna go in alone first?”

“No.” You shook your head and pushed down the handle, suddenly feeling more courageous and determined than before.

You barged in. Not gentle. Not slow. The urge to see him, face to face within the same four walls – after all these years, after all the tears – washed over you like heavy rainfall. You didn’t want to weather the storm – you wanted to be it. It felt safer than to seek shelter under driftwood.

Then, your heartbeats halted. The world around you paused. No murmurs in the hallway, no beeping machines or bustling footsteps. It felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane, everything else flying fast around you, but the center was calm.

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you. The slightly furrowed brow above them softened, his lips parted in awe. He still looked the same, only slightly aged by the years and what he’d been through.

“Randy?” Your voice was a quiet tremble but still filled the entire room.

A smile flickered alive on his face. “Hey,” he said, his own voice raspy and dry as if he hadn’t had water in several days. Deserted like he had been. His hazel eyes lit up, full of love and adoration. It was the same look he had always worn when he gazed at you. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It saturated your frozen heart with warmth and your gray and bleak vision with technicolor.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered with a thick swallow.

Randy snorted a bit. “Now, you know how I always felt,” he quipped, blinking the tears in his eyes away. He’d always been a ray of sunshine. He was light and sweet and good down to his bones. A part of you had expected that light to fade, though, considering what he must’ve experienced the last few years. But it hadn’t. He was still shining as bright as ever, his spirit untouched by the darkness that had tried to swallow him. “Are you just gonna stand there like a moron?”

A small laugh escaped you as tears began to sting your eyes when he spoke those same words you once had said to him. You wanted to cry when you heard them. What sliver of doubt remained in your mind that it wasn’t truly him vanished upon his words. Your feet wanted to move forward, but your heart tugged you back.

You glanced back over your shoulder and found Beau, standing with lovelorn patience by the door as he watched the exchange between you two. The muscle in your chest then stung, like someone had dropped it into a pit full of cacti. You felt torn in two, pulled into opposite directions.

Randy followed your gaze and finally noticed his second visitor, his brow shooting up in surprise. For a second, Beau felt nervous as he awaited a reaction. He expected resentment, hatred, blame, and anger. What he got, however, was a rising smile.

“Hey, man.” Randy seemed happy to see him, not an ounce of animosity detectable. “You two realize you’re staring, right?”

“‘S good to see you, Randy,” Beau managed to say and forced a quivering smile to his lips. And it wasn’t a lie. A big part of him was elated to have his best friend, his old partner, his brother back. But he couldn’t ignore the gnashing, lethal wound in the shape of you that Randy’s return caused.

Carefully, you stepped closer and let out a nervous breath as you sat down at the edge of his bed. He reached out and tenderly caressed your cheeks, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. A smile curved his lips as soon as he touched you again. It felt like he was holding a miracle while you looked at him like he was a ghost.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he said. His hand then slid down your arm to hold yours, fingers brushing over the one. His gaze dropped when he couldn’t feel what he was looking for, the tan line of the missing item around your ring finger still visible. Pensively, he licked his lips. “They told me everyone thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry, buddy,” Beau said and swallowed harshly. The sight in front of him almost took him out. Even though it was a familiar picture, one he had seen a million times before, seeing it now was a different story. After everything he knew, you in someone else’s arms that weren’t his felt like a bullet piercing through his chest. His heart was bleeding. “I thought you got shot.”

“It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself, man. It was crazy in there. It could’ve happened to anybody. I did get shot. Only the slug went straight through the shoulder,” Randy explained. “Cartel then took me to Mexico. Juárez.”

Your wide eyes wandered to Beau, the two of you sharing a horrified look. Randy had been right underneath your noses this entire time. You could’ve saved him.

“You were in Juárez? We were there, too,” you muttered in shocked realization.

“Oh, I know,” Randy said, surprising you both. Your heart beat faster, accelerating to lightning speed and close to jumping out of your chest. Did he already know about you and his best friend? But he answered your question before you could ask it. “Cartel talked about a task force moving in on them. I overheard them once. Said my old partner and wife were looking for me. When y’all got too close, though, they moved me further south. There’s nothin’ you coulda done.”

“What did they do to you? How are you still alive?” you asked and didn’t want to sound ungrateful for it, but you were completely baffled. You had too many questions racing through your mind.

Randy chuckled a little at your line of questioning. “You’re still the same.” He smiled and tore your heart apart, because you knew you weren’t. Not really. “I think they thought they could keep me for leverage. Trade me at some point? They held me in a basement at first till they moved me south. Kept me at farm of some cartel member. It wasn’t highly guarded, but even when I had opportunity to flee, I didn’t know where I was or where to go. I thought they’d either kill me or give me back at some point, but then months… years passed. I gave up hope they’d ever let me go. And then, one night they threw a bag over my head and I woke up in some weird bunker… in Montana. Apparently. Anyone wanna explain what I’m doing here? How did you guys get here so fast? They only brought me here a few hours ago. Had to convince them a little to find and call you since they thought I was dead.”

“I was already here for a case. There’s a crazy serial killer lady who took you. That’s who locked you into that bunker,” you explained and watched his brow crease.

“Huh.”

“I work Major Crimes now. It’s a long story,” you added quickly. You didn’t even know where to start. How could you recap three years?

“Really?” His smile was back. This time, it was a proud one. “That’s good. You always wanted that.”

“Yeah.” You blushed a little and gave him a small smile in return.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze flickering to your missing ring on your finger once more. “So, uhm… since everyone thought I was dead, I guess we’re not married anymore, huh?”

Your heart exploded like he had just deposited a grenade inside of it. You averted your gaze to your joined hands. “Uh, Randy…”

“No, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he quickly soothed and chuckled to lift your worries, and you weren’t sure if it was a real smile or just one for your sake. “I’m just trying to catch up, you know? Get up to speed. ‘Sides, if we’re not married anymore, we could have a second wedding. Might be fun, right?”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. “Uh, yeah.” You nodded and hoped he couldn’t see your reluctance.

Randy then stretched his neck and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a slow and chaste kiss that felt like your first. Tears of happiness mixed with sadness as they rolled down your cheeks. When Beau softly cleared his throat, you broke away from Randy, your cracked heart shattering into sharp daggers that sliced through your skin. What were you supposed to do, though? Reject the man you married because it would break the heart of the one you currently loved?

“I-, uh, I should go. Let you two catch up,” Beau said uncomfortably. The crestfallen look on his face destroyed you. “I’ll keep the press away from this for as long as I can. Lord knows they love a good back-from-the-dead story.”

“You can do that?” Randy arched a curious brow.

Beau pulled his jacket back a little and tapped the badge on his belt. “Kinda the sheriff here.”

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break.

Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Beau, wait–”

But he had rushed out of that room so fast, he couldn’t even hear you as the door fell shut behind him. You offered Randy the same tight-lipped smile and stroked his cheek. Your emotions were a mangled mess. A part of you was hauled back to the past, old feelings that you had buried deep coming back alive, while new ones reminded you that it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Give me a sec, okay? I’ll go talk to your doctor. See when we can get you outta here,” you said and waited for Randy’s nod of confirmation before you darted out of the room.

Your heart thrummed in your ribcage as you raced down the hospital’s corridors all the way to the parking lot where you finally caught up with Beau. He was on a fast-paced escape to his car before he stopped when you called his name.

“Beau, wait!”

As he spun around, he dragged a palm over his face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. But the evidence was still visible, his eyes red and distraught. “You should go back, Y/N. He needs you.”

The heart in your throat caused you to choke. “So do you. I’m so sorry,” you said, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. But as you stepped forward to hold him, he took a step back.

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Everything in you wanted to break through the fence he had set up, full-throttle with a lead foot on the gas, but you thought it was best to respect his wishes for now. You didn’t even know where your head was and wanted to avoid hurting him more.

“Here, uhm, you should have this back.” He fished out your wedding ring from his back pocket and dropped it into your palm, the quick brush of his skin tearing you apart even more. The golden band suddenly felt heavier than it ever had. You didn’t even know when he had grabbed it from his desk drawer, but the foresight scared you. He let out a humorless chuckle as the sadness brimmed in his green eyes. “Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Your lips parted, your brow lifting in realization. Whatever dusted remnants were left of your heart plummeted. “Beau…”

“Don’t. ‘S okay,” he wrung out with a doleful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Call if you need somethin’.”

With a passive nod, he jumped into his Jeep. You clutched the ring in your hand so tightly it almost burned through your skin as you watched him drive off.

Beau uncapped his third beer of the night (plus two tumblers of whiskey and a shot of his old friend Don Julio) as he sat on the bed in his trailer. A pile of your clothes still lay on the floor to his right, your favorite coffee mug stood in the kitchen sink, and your shampoo was stored in the shower. It felt like you hadn’t left, even though you had.

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one. And Beau understood, because he had felt the same way once, too, when you walked into his office – back into his life.

He told himself it was the torture he deserved for all of his sins. And he swallowed it all down – the hurt, the heartbreak, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He had no right to feel those things. Not anymore. You weren’t his. You never were.

How long did he have with you this time around? Five weeks?

Suddenly, he regretted leaving Houston, regretted leaving you. He wasted a whole year that he could’ve spent loving you. He always thought, in the end, he'd have more time. Eternity, even. How fucking foolish was that?

The headlights and sounds of a car in front of his home drew his attention to the window, shadows and lights dancing along the walls of his trailer. He couldn’t see his visitor, but considering it was in the middle of the night, he assumed it was either Jenny or Cassie checking up on him. He had texted them to let them know what was going on. But as he opened the door, the sight left him speechless.

“Y/N…” Your name fell from his lips like you were an angel he had prayed for. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were seeing things right, or if you were a booze- and depression-induced hallucination. You wouldn’t be the first ghost that came back to haunt him, after all.

“You ain’t nothing.”

With those words still floating in the night air, you cupped his neck and crashed your lips against his, kissing him fervently with everything you had as tears streamed down your cheeks. He returned the kiss just as passionately, although you could feel a part of him fighting against it. But his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, the kiss lasting till both of you were bluer than the sky. You didn’t let go of him, though, hands holding onto his shirt, too scared he would slip through the cracks of your fingers if you did.

“Y/N, I can’t…”

“I love you,” you interjected his hesitance with firmness and gripped him tighter, your gaze drilling into him like you hoped your words would. “You think I’d just forget? You think my feelings for you just vanish into thin air? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just snap my fingers and stop loving you. I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I. Look, when he died, I grieved that loss and it felt like I was dying, too. I never thought life would be... exciting... and fun... and happy... and so full of love again. And then… I-I fell in love with you, and my life somehow started again. And I know this whole situation is fucked up and confusing and impossible. And I don’t know what to do… I don't know what the right thing is here. But I do know you feel right, and I can’t just pretend you and me and everything good that came with it never existed. I don’t want to. Please, just… I need you, Beau. You said you wouldn't leave again. You're not making things better by walking away...”

With a stretch of your toes, your nose grazed his before you gently claimed his plump, soft lips once more. Your tear-stained cheeks met the roughness of his beard. The kiss started ginger and careful, giving him time to withdraw if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and stoked the flames of the fire that burned for him deep within your soul. Inhibitions were set ablaze as the kiss turned searing. He hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle as he carried you inside.

The trailer’s peaceful silence was disturbed by panting breaths, a pathway of clothes leading from the entrance to the bed. You peeled off his shirt, and he slid off yours over your head. You unclasped your bra and tore it off, pressing your tits against his bare chest as your lips tried to remain connected to each other through it all. By the time he sat down on the edge of the mattress with you on top, only two naked bodies seeking friction remained.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted him to fill you and make you whole again until you stopped feeling like you were breaking apart at the seams. Hands roamed and explored as tongues mingled and savored tastes. As you straddled his muscular thighs, his arms wound around your middle and kept you firmly pressed against him, his hold on you strong as his fingers dented your flesh. You hoped it was enough to leave bruises behind. You never wanted to forget him, wishing his marks would be permanent ink on your skin.

“I need you,” you murmured against his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips, his cock rubbing against your soaking core as you gently rocked your hips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips. One hand steadied itself on his broad shoulder as your other one fisted his hard, throbbing length and positioned it at your entrance, his cockhead gliding through your slick and teasing you till you shuddered with wanton need to feel him inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered and gasped as you sank down, sheathing his thick cock in your warmth as your velvety walls welcomed him. With a needy and yet tender kiss, you soothed his grunt when he was fully inside you and prodded at your cervix. “Wanna make you feel good, okay?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t do this to me if you’re gonna leave,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice laced with desperation and pain. His hand softly caressed your face as he rested his forehead against yours. His love for you radiated in his green eyes like kryptonite.

You cupped his bearded cheeks and forced him to look at you, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“But–”

You kissed him before he could bring forth all the reasons why you should, but you didn’t care. Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him. When you left the hospital, there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no one you wanted to see more. Your heart had only ached for him.

You were finally home, and now that you were back in the arms where you belonged, you kissed him so hard till his mind quieted down to a soft lullaby. You kissed him so hungrily till his cock twitched inside of you because you were the only one he wanted, too. You kissed him so passionately he felt your love for him seep into his own heart.

As you began to roll your hips, he met you thrust by thrust as he pounded up into you. His massive hands and sinful mouth roamed every inch of your body. Palms groped your tits and fingers tickled your spine. Lips kissed your throat and tongue massaged your nipples. Teeth grazed your flesh and beard burned your skin.

Your nails dug into the thick muscles on his shoulders and scraped his scalp as his cock split you open with each pump. His girth tore you apart, each time you eased back down a new pleasurable burn coursing through you as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him.

Your pace rose with the tides of your hips, your thighs flexing as your cunt stroked his cock and came closer to the finish line. Beau buried his head in the crook of your neck, writhing and groaning underneath you. His fingers bit into your flesh, surely leaving bruises behind this time. Your tits rubbed against his chest, and you could feel his muscles tensing and straining underneath your fingertips with each bounce. He was barely holding on.

“Come for me, baby,” you beckoned him, feeling your own orgasm approach. The fuse was sparked and burned a path right to your explosive core. “I love you…”

“Fuck!” Beau cried out and spilled into you, his body trembling in your grasp. Those words were all it took to tip him over the edge.

You came with a thundering moan. His release triggered your own, your pussy pulsing violently around him and milking his cock for all he’d got. His cum mixed with your arousal and gushed out of you, trickling down your thighs and coating even his balls. Your thighs shook with exhaustion as you let yourself fall down on him, his arms catching you and holding you close.

Still panting, his mouth found yours in the dark. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks, the rest of his fingers dangling in your hair, the grip soft turned bruising as he kept you lip-tied to him, the kiss tender turned rough.

His nose brushed yours as he looked deeply at you. You could see the despair drowning in his pine green eyes, his emotions overtaking him.

“Pick me. Don’t go,” he begged in a harsh whisper, your flushed face in his warm palms.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Chapter 10: It Matters – DECEMBER 06

Phew, writing that hospital scene nearly killed me 😮‍💨 Next up, we have even more drama as the awkward throuple reaches a boiling point...

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[flowersheep]

Suckening EP 10 spoilers

When shilo was dancing in the sunlight, I thought about the phrase my mom told me while we were watching a movie. The movie had a quote in it, "she smells like the sun" which sounds pretty poetic and you'd assume the smell of fresh laundry or something pretty but in my parents' culture, it means that you've been outside for too long and you stink. I'd believe shilo would smell like the sun for that moment. He'd been stuck in that castle for almost his entire life and for a small moment in time, he's a kid playing outside in the sun

[saltynsassy31]

Frye Fest - Final Countdown

<- Previous - Part 19 - Next ->

[19/20]

♡Back when it was just us♡

👋Team Paper👋

Splatfest World Premier 27-08-2022

[Master Post - coming soon]

[dutybcrne]

In a pokemon au, you KNOW Kae is the sort to have his team out and about havin fun.

But most definitely babeys TF outta his Vulpix/Ninetails

[qcomicsy]

I think a thing that people get wrong about Jason's anger is that it's not explosive.

It's cold. Jason isn't the type of person who storms off at every little thing or goes throwing tantrums and setting things on fire blindfully.

He's the type of person who's very practical. He keeps to himself, always. You rarely see issues where Jason's anger is reactive at the moment where the trigger happens to him. If you see his character up close, most of the time when he's triggered his reaction is calm. Even cold.

He gets triggered -> He keeps to himself → He makes a plan → And then he reacts.

Jason's anger being something explosive and out of character and out of place is actually how other people (characters) see it, because they have no idea on how it's playing out on Jason's head.

And that's a thing you can see operating since he was a child.

Where the only exceptions about this effect is either when someone he believes needs his help is involved.

See Nightwing Annual (2021)

But In Batman #411 when Jason learns the fact that Two-Face was responsible for his father's death and Bruce was keeping that from him as a secret his first reaction isn't to blow up on him.

Was to seethe.

Bruce goes up home after dealing with a Two-Face case (in my field we call that poetic irony) and asks Alfred where Jason is, Alfred's answer is that he's been sleeping all day (which is a conclusion that Alfred drew probably after going to check on Jason and seeing him in fact on his bed all day).

But when you see the next panel, even though he is on the bed, He's fully awake and both his expression and his body language shows that he's in fact angry.

This is the first time he appears again in the comics after learning that Two Face killed his dad.

Jason doesn't go towards Bruce immediately to demand an explanation or ask why he did this, or even to throw the truth on his face.

(Which could be debatable that that's something the Dick would usually do, but I'm not that literate on Dick's comics)

His reaction wasn't immediate.

His reaction was to go to his bed and stay quiet. Jason stayed calm and collected the whole trip until meeting Two Face again.

But the moment Jason as Robin has the opportunity to get his hands on Two-Face he does this

From Bruce, and maybe Alfred's perspective it could be interpreted as out of place or him storming off.

But it isn't. Jason was able to keep his cool (even though he shut off), until he was face a face to Two Face.

Does that mean he planned that to happen?

That's debatable, in any moment of this issue it is shown that Jason was actually planning to get to Two Face and do this. I my personal opinion, other and much more plausible explanation is: That he was in fact trying to keep to himself but couldn't hold back the moment that he saw his dad's murder.

You can see the same thing happening as Jason learns that Batman got another Robin in Red Hood: Lost Days.

Talia asks "You all right?" and Jason's first answer is "Sure Why Wouldn't I Be Alright?"

When he's alone he finally has the moment to break down.

(Actually both Red Hood: The lost days and Batman: Under the Red Hood are great case studies on how that usually play out on Jason's head.)

Jason is way more in control of his emotions than people ever give him credit for. The thing is that Jason holds it back until he either blows off or is capable to throw it back in someone's face.

[aklaustaleteller]

heyy how are you! i have this idea that wont leave my head, the reader is scared of love and runs away from it and keeps pushing anyone that tries anything away, but klaus does everything to prove to her that his intentions are pure, and after he does with a little while, she find out about him being a hybrid (maybe she gets really scared) and he has to grovel his way into her life

Mendable Inside Your Ribs

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. Then suddenly, Klaus comes in her life looking like the light at the end of the tunnel – and maybe, just maybe, their monsters have more in common than they originally thought.

Warnings - Mentions of animalistic urges, monstrosity, blood, wounds and bruises but it's all in a metamorphic manner (well, except for the blood)

Word Count - 3.2k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Finally, Anon, I'm posting your request! I'm so sorry I took so long, but I truly hope that you find the wait worth it once you're done reading this! I could've written this in an entirely different and simpler manner, but I was already half-way through it already written it in a poetic/metamorphic way, so I hope you guys still enjoy it for I am quite proud <3 Please do tell me if you do!

Y/n, all her life, had reached for love and then felt her white-knuckled dying grip on it slip. So many times had it happened that now she was found sat with her hair tangled, dried blood and dirt on her face and inside her nails with crooked teeth, clawing at her own skin sitting in a corner, rocking herself back and forth to comfort herself as she saw love creeping towards her with a smile so sinister that it could make shivers run down the devil’s spine. 

From her parents shaming her for wanting something so simple as love, to her romantic partners who’d always stumble a couple steps back upon realising just how hungry she was for love – how animalistic she could get just for an ounce of it. 

All of it turned her into a person as cold as a tombstone standing over a dead person’s grave, unfeeling and unmoving.

But when she would feel, it felt like her own heart was pushing her head under the water, holding her in there until she had only one more breath left in her. It made her want to snarl and to hiss, to bite and to claw at the person who made her heart leap out of her chest. 

Which would then make her turn and run the other way as fast as her feet could carry her, back to the corner where she belonged. Sometimes she would raise her head and look at the walls inside of her, reading the numbers she had madly tally-marked on them to keep track of just how many days she had kept herself chained there. And somewhere along the passing time, she’d begun defeatedly losing count.

Yet as she sat in that very corner and raised her head this time, she saw something bright. Almost like a light at the end of the tunnel. So she’d gotten forward on her hands and moved on her knees, curiosity pulling her forward until she reached the border which she’d have to cross to get to the other side. 

And that’s when she saw him standing there – Klaus Mikaelson. Smiling down upon her like she was the cutest lamb he’d ever come across, instead of falling backwards because he actually saw the love-hungry animal that she was. 

So, she had taken it upon herself to back off, and ran away from him. But horror crept over her and held her tight when she saw that he had followed her back inside, back to her corner where she resided. 

“Love,” she heard him whisper as he brought his open hands in front of him, wanting her to place her own calloused ones in them and come with him. 

But she never did, always turning away with a growl so that he’d leave. But every time she’d look his way to check if he’d finally left, she’d find him still standing there, with that same smile and those same open arms. 

“Go away, Klaus,” she said coldly, looking away so her dead eyes wouldn’t have to witness hurt flash through his starry eyes. 

He wanted nothing more than for her to see herself the way he saw her. Wanted for her to know that he was the one who’s undeserving of her love, actually. He was the animal here, not her.

But she profusely denied all of his pleas and begs, holding herself strictly uptight so that she wouldn’t fall into pieces upon him and crush him under the weight of all her grief, anger and tragedy. 

He just couldn't seem to get through to her, no matter how hard he tried. So he just decided to remain persistent, and show her how truly pure his intentions are via small acts. Like buying her gifts that he knew would matter to her, such as those small plants that never grow, or random postcards that he knew she put up on her walls, or books that he’d annotated for her to get her to take a glimpse into the way he saw her.

But sometimes, those acts got rather intimate. Like that time he brushed her hair for her for a week long when she had broken her wrist, or that night when he took her feet in his lap to massage them gently after she’d given her best performance on stage. Hell he’d even gone as far as to cook for her on especially hard nights so that he could feed her his love. 

And maybe he was just growing delusional now, but he was beginning to feel like she was taking down her walls around him brick by brick. She no longer glared at him with those ice cold eyes when he would enter into a close proximity to her, nor did she sneer at him to go away. 

Instead, he saw her eyes grow a little wider when he’d enter the same room as her, the dead stare tucking itself away for other people as some life took a dive in her eyes. And he heard a lullaby in her voice when she’d greet him back, her body turned towards him and eyes on him to give him all of her attention.

That’s how he knew that he had brought her away from that corner and back to the very border, again. And he also knew that he now had to tread carefully so that she wouldn’t go back, tumbling away from him. 

And Klaus didn’t know if the Salvatore brothers telling her all about the supernatural world, about who The Klaus Mikaelson was, was his fault or not. 

But what he did blame himself for, was for lowering his guard when he’d brought her just one step away from crossing the border and loosened his grip on her because the moment she was told about his past, not only did she go fumbling back but she also left crescent moons dug in his shoulders from when she’d been shaking him, sobbing loudly and crying out for him to tell her that all of it wasn’t true.

But Klaus couldn’t lie to her, so he’d stood frozen with tears spilling from his eyes as she ran back to her corner, tally-marking another day after so long that her eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her again, this time, more like an evilly laughing capturer instead of holding her in it’s arms like a pitiful mother. 

Y/n awoke this morning with her eyes puffed up, it happened every time she went to sleep exhausted out of her mind. And as the flashes of last night began reeling through her mind again, her eyes grew moist and her vision grew blurry while she climbed down the stairs to go into the kitchen. 

Grabbing a glass of water she chugged it down, leaning over the sink and mumbling to herself that everything was fine, that she was fine. Her eyes remained shut but tears slipped out regardless, sniffling sounds echoing through her house as she tried not to retain any of the information that had been dumped on her. 

“He’s a …hybrid,” Stefan had said, looking at her through his lashes like he was talking to a child about how tooth fairies aren’t real.  

“And what’s that?” She asked, a feeling in her gut telling her that it was, in no way, a sweet creature. 

“He’s half vampire, and half werewolf,” Damon finished saying behind her. 

Breath was knocked out of her lungs at that. She’d always had her suspicions about some certain people surrounding her, like Stefan and Damon themselves, but never once had she felt anything remotely scary when Klaus would stand in front of her. 

Perhaps it was because of his big starry eyes, and those unruly blonde curls that he kept trimmed for some reason. Or those dimples that would shy away from her gaze and that mouth which would always stretch into a smile upon her sight. Or, those hands that held her so gingerly, and those feet that held the weight of her body as he carried her home. 

And maybe it was the fact that he’d never once told her about this himself, that hurt the worse. He had lied to her, or kept the truth from her, dare she say to defend his honour. But it felt like a punch square in the chest when she learned about the blood that stained his hands, his clothes, his face and his mouth. 

Despite that horrifying revelation, she had run straight to his home and shouted at him to come outside. And the moment he had, she was pushing and shoving at him, putting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him, crying – “tell me they are lying! Tell me that you aren’t what they say you are, that you have no blood on your hands!” 

“Tell me!” She had broken down, resting her head on his chest as she let out the sobs. 

“Tell me this wasn’t your intention!” She shook him again and Klaus had opened his mouth to agree with her, but she had fallen to her knees then, looking up at him with tears staining her cheeks and blood swirling in her eyes. 

“Please don’t take me home,” she had told him despite the hot tears streaming down her face and fog settling in her mind. “I can never go home now,” she whispered, scared. 

Home was something that was supposed to be a constant in one's life, that one returned to every single day. And there hadn’t been anything like that for her until Klaus. And now that the shelter of his frame had been uprooted and thrown away, cold rain scraped at her skin all over again as she scrambled around to find her corner to go back to. 

She didn’t want that corner to be her home but time and time again, it was proven to her that it was – whether she liked that or not. 

Taking deep breaths to gather herself, Y/n went back up to her room to get ready for the day – knowing that all she was going to do was read and write and water her dying plants and maybe bake some biscuits that she was never going to get Klaus to taste now. 

And just as she came back to make her first cup of tea, she heard a hissing sound and turned to see a paper that had been folded into half. It had been slipped in through the crack underneath the door. 

She picked it up and opened it, immediately recognising Klaus’ handwriting. 

Y/n,

I know I’ve wounded you deeply by keeping who I truly am from you. But spending so much time with you, I’d somehow mistaken myself to be just the Klaus Mikaelson that you saw. I'm the one who’s wrong at that part, forgive me for it. I never meant to lie to you, perhaps, I was waiting for the right time. But it’s never the right time, is it? I’ve learned that now. 

And while I’m sure the brothers told you enough, I’d still like to introduce myself to you all over again. This time, by laying all my defences down. I should’ve said it then and there, but something came over me and I couldn’t form words. But I hope you’d believe me when I tell you that hurting you was not my intention – it’s something far far away from what I truly do intend. 

My family is hosting a traditional ball tonight. Please save this sick lover of yours a dance. And, you need not fret for I have brought you a dress, come outside? 

Yours truly,

Klaus

A deep weight rested itself on top of Y/n’s chest as she slowly walked towards her door, and opened it. She’d been expecting to see Klaus, but instead there was a box on her porch with a silk bow resting on top of it. She sat down and brought it to her lap, opening it to reveal a blue dress, folded neatly inside the box. 

She knew she was going – there was no doubt about that. But what did gnaw at her, was the chance of what would happen when she’d get there. She wanted to accept the feeling that told her he wouldn't hurt her. And yet, a tremor coursed through her body as she sat and sipped on her tea, waiting for the evening to roll around. 

She wanted for him to unleash himself and show her who he truly is, so that she can love him for him. She didn’t want to fall in love with just his bruised upper skin – no. She wanted to get to know him, inside and out. Wanted to know what his guts found intimidating and what his soul found peaceful. 

But if he wasn’t going to show her that, then nothing could ever make her clean herself up and rid herself of all the wounds that had been inflicted upon her, so that she doesn’t bleed on him from the cut that he didn’t inflict. She had a feelling that maybe, just maybe – there monsters had more in common than they thought they had. 

There must be a reason behind the blood tainting his skin, perhaps, it was thrust upon him for all she knew! Maybe he didn’t want to be the monster that he had been turned into. 

And if that’s true, Y/n wondered if she would still want to unravel him if it turned out that he was just a monster that had no other driving force apart from some personal fun. 

So she dressed herself up for the night. Prepared to listen to him and ask him questions if he wouldn’t have answered them already in his explanation. 

Entering the mansion that she always ran far away from, Y/n took a huge breath before wandering her eyes around to search for the one and only. And It didn’t take long before their eyes locked, with him already looking at her with rather guilty eyes and a relieved smile for she had shown up. 

Walking to her, Klaus took in a shaky breath as he fixed his suite. He was nervous, hell, scared even. Honestly, terrified that tonight might be the final time he would see her and the final memory he’d have of her would be of her sprinting away from him for she couldn’t bear the sight of the ugly monster he had ended up growing into. 

“You came,” Klaus smiled, looking at her with those same starry eyes except tonight they were shining because of the sheen layer of tears glossing them up. 

“You asked me to,” she shrugged faintly, her mouth cold to sight but her eyes were big and almost smiling up at him. 

With her hand still in his’ from when he had bent down to kiss the back of it, Klaus walked her over to the vacant balcony – nothing to witness the tragedy but the sky that had itself gotten dressed in its best constellations and ornament, the moon.

Klaus wanted to believe his heart when it told him that she would listen to him and try to love him, but his head’s juxtaposition was not gentle. It prepared him for the worst, reminding him of how no one had ever loved him before, and no one would now. For all that was true, he had only gotten worse over time. 

“To hurt you, was never my intention,” he whispered, his big eyes looking into hers. 

“It is true that I am a Hybrid – a vampire and a werewolf. It is also true that I’m covered in blood from head to toe, from my bones to my skin, I am drenched in it.”

His legs were growing jittery and breathing was becoming harder to do than it should be. But his hold on her hand only tightened, tears collecting on his bottom lash line. 

“It is true that I am a monster. One with a heart that doesn’t beat and a soul that feasts upon the love it never gets,” with his free hand, Klaus wiped the tear as it slipped down the slope of his cheek. 

She only stood still in front of him, urging him with her eyes to go on. Her own breathing ragged as she began seeing him and listening to him

“But I need you to know, before you leave tonight,” his voice shook as he stole his eyes from hers for a second to gain back his courage, as all of it had been spent the moment he mentioned her inevitable departure. “That I would never hurt you, I never can, hurt you,” he assured her, searching her eyes for anything. 

“I truly am in love with you. And I will take forever to show you that if that’s what you’ll ask of me,” bringing her hand to his chest, he rested it there. “I want you to lay yourself bare in front of me so that I can show you that even your ugliest is loved by me,” he whispered.

“Say something, please,” he almost cried, his voice cracked, not having anticipated her departure to come so soon. 

“I –,” Y/n began, her voice hoarse due to not having used it for so long. “I think I can love you, Klaus,” she uttered, looking away from his eyes, fearing that he was going to deny her heart upon realising just how ugly and bruised and beaten it is.

Upon the realisation that sure, her insides are a million colours – but they are all shades of blue. 

And when the deafening silence got too much for her to bear, she turned away from him to make a run back home. 

But her hand felt to have gotten caught in something and she was pulled right back, into a hard and vulnerable chest as her mouth felt something soft press itself hardly against it. 

Klaus’ mouth. 

His mouth was on hers and one of his hands was curled against the back of her neck while the other cradled her face with force. 

Everything inside of her erupted into flames as she tilted her face to better mould it against his’, and fisted the curls on the nape of his neck, pushing him further into her while bending her back to accept the force. 

“Say it again,” he breathed, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on hers, his tears slipping from his eyes and falling onto her cheeks. 

“I think,” she exhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath while her eyes remained stuck on his mouth. “I think I can love you,” she confessed again, instantly moving her lips in sync with his’ as he kissed her desperately, finally. 

“My heart – it is shabby and broken but it’s already yours,” she choked out. “And it’s only mendable inside your ribs,” her shoulders shook as she cried, now fisting the shirt of his collar to keep him close to her. 

“My love, your heart – it, it is safe with me,” he breathed with her, trying to calm his racing heart down. “And my heart will forever beat on your command,” sniffling, he tucked her hair behind her ear, gently lifting her face to seal his confession by breathing in her breath and letting her take away his’ as he pressed his mouth against hers, once again. 

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Silent treatment. ✦ 」 Mattheo riddle x reader

Summary: Giving Mattheo the silent treatment after an argument wasn't the best idea after all

Words: 5k

Warning: [smut , heavy smut , strong language NSFW]

On days like these, I feel an overwhelming urge to rearrange Mattheo's face. Despite our discussions and my heartfelt pleas, he seems to have a remarkable talent for ignoring everything I say.

The memory of our conversation echoed in my mind: my desperate pleas for him to leave that wretched boy alone, the hollow promises he'd made to appease me.

And now, that very same boy was lying in the hospital. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?

The cold shoulder was the only response I could muster, a potent cocktail of disappointment and anger simmering just beneath.

"Look," he started, a cocky edge to his voice, "that jerk had it coming. You can't just let people walk all over you."

My blood ran cold. He wasn't remorseful, he was proud. My icy glare intensified.

"So you think injuring someone and getting them suspended is the answer?" I countered, my voice laced with controlled fury.

He shrugged, a nonchalant act that did little to hide the flicker of unease in his eyes. "He'll learn his lesson," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

“ so , are you “ my voice tinged with disappointment as I turned away, leaving him behind. Maybe I wasn't that hungry after all

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Ah, I see you're in the mood for a silent treatment today," he remarked dryly as he leaned against the nearby wall, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Must be a new strategy in the art of communication, or perhaps it's just your way of keeping things exciting."

"Either way," he continued, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "I'm impressed by your dedication to the cause. Who needs words when we can communicate through meaningful silence, right?" His eyes sparkled with amusement as he waited for my response, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

"Meaningful silence?" I scoffed. "That's a new one, Mattheo. Very poetic."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep up with your level of dramatics."

I crossed my arms, feigning offense. "My dramatics? You're the one who turns every situation into a Shakespearean tragedy."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Is that so? Well, I suppose every play needs a leading lady."

I couldn't help but smile despite myself. "And what role do you think you play in this drama?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The charming rogue, of course. The one who keeps the plot interesting."

I shook my head. "You certainly do that, Mattheo. Whether I like it or not."

His grin was infectious. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, are you ready to break the silence and actually talk to me?"

“actually I have something to do “ i said

As I turned to leave, Mattheo's taunting words followed me. "Ignite me, Lady Macbeth."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," I retorted.

He grabbed my arm lightly as I tried to walk away. "Don't roll your eyes unless you want this conversation to continue somewhere else y/n "

"I have something important to do," I replied coolly, trying to free my arm from his grasp.

He persisted, asking, "Like what?"

"Visiting a patient in the hospital," I said, finally pulling away and smiling.

Mattheo chuckled. "You'll regret this little act, baby."

"I thought we were in a play," I quipped before turning and walking away.

Truth be told, I had no intention of visiting that snobby Gryffindor in the hospital. Mattheo's broken promise irked me, but I couldn't muster any sympathy for the boy who got what he deserved.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As the days went by, Mattheo's attempts to regain my attention became more evident. He started showing up unexpectedly in places I frequented, always with a casual excuse or a playful remark.

But today , today was something else , he deliberately sat closer to a group of giggling Ravenclaw girls, laughing a little too loudly at their jokes and engaging in animated conversation.

I couldn't help but notice, my eyes flickering over to his table every now and then. It was frustrating how effortlessly he could draw attention, even when he wasn't trying. I busied myself with my own friends, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that crept into my chest.

However, Mattheo wasn't done with his antics. As the meal progressed, he caught my eye from across the room and winked mischievously. It was a subtle gesture, but it made my heart race in a way I didn't want to admit.

Feeling a surge of annoyance mixed with curiosity, I excused myself from my friends and made my way over to his table. "What's with the show?" I asked, trying to sound unaffected.

Mattheo grinned, leaning back in his chair casually. "Just trying to keep things interesting," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, it's not every day I get to make you jealous."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "You wish."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Admit it, you were totally watching ."

“ well played riddle well played “ I walked away

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The days crawled by, each one painted in shades of frosty silence between Matteo and me. Rumors swirled around the school like rogue Bludgers. Had we finally called it quits? The question hung heavy in the air, fueled by Mattheo's brooding demeanor and my own steely resolve.

One particularly dreary afternoon, I found myself drowning my sorrows (or at least trying to ) in a big cup of apple juice in the library. Lost in a dusty tome about ancient magical creatures, I barely registered the approaching figure until a shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, I encountered a smug face I vaguely recognized – Zacharias Clifton, a Quidditch player from Ravenclaw notorious for his greasy hair and even greasier personality. "Mind if I join you, lovely?" he drawled, his voice dripping with a forced charm that made me cringe.

Before I could muster a response, he slid into the seat opposite me, invading my personal space with a confidence that reeked of entitlement. "So, I hear you're single these days," he continued, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint.

I gritted my teeth, the urge to hex him into a toad growing stronger by the second. Just as I was about to unleash a verbal scathing of epic proportions, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Actually, Clifton, she's very much taken."

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his usual swagger amplified tenfold. His gaze, however, wasn't directed at Zacharias, but at me. A flicker of something that looked suspiciously like possessiveness crossed his features before he turned his attention back to the unwelcome visitor.

"See your broomstick awaits," Mattheo said, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Don't let me keep you from your precious practice."

Zacharias, his face a comical shade of purple, sputtered something incoherent before gathering his dignity (or what little he possessed) and retreating with a disgruntled scowl.

The library door swung shut with a satisfying thud, leaving Mattheo and me alone in the hushed silence. My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaotic rhythm that seemed to echo in the stillness.

Mattheo took a tentative step forward, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before gently settling on the back of my chair. "Can we talk?" he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yeah, just not here," I managed to get the words out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Lead the way," he said, his arm tightening around me possessively as we walked out of the library

The anger that had simmered within me for days threatened to fade once I saw him, and it just hit me how much I missed him.

As we made our way to our secret chamber (the hidden chamber we found last year and claimed as ours),tucked away from the curious eyes and whispers of Hogwarts, Mattheo's touch took on a possessive edge. His hands found every excuse to claim me, a silent proclamation to the entire school that I was still his .

With each step down the narrow passage, Mattheo drew me closer, his fingertips tracing tantalizing patterns on my skin. The sensation sent delightful shivers through me, igniting a quiet thrill of belonging in his arms amidst the bustling halls of our magical world.

The soft glow of the hidden chamber beckoned us, casting an enchanting ambiance that mirrored the intimacy between us.

As soon as we were finally in , I turned to him,my voice tinged with anger."What was that all about ? A show for the audience ? "

He met my gaze, a playful glint simmering beneath the surface of his seriousness. "Just reminding everyone that you're happily taken."

"Happily?" I scoffed, pushing against his arm, "We haven't spoken a word to each other in days!"

He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And whose fault is that, love? " His warm breath tickled my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

My cheeks burned, a mixture of annoyance and something else entirely swirling within me. "Yeah, going to blame that all on me now?"

"No," he paused, his eyes searching mine. "I just don’t understand why you're so mad about what I did to that perk."

I sighed, "it’s not about him , Mattheo… You know that," I conceded, my voice softer than I intended. "It’s about the promise you made and broke. You know how much I hate that."

It stirred up emotions I'd rather forget. Let's just say, coming from a family where promises were often broken had its drawbacks.

"So you've chosen to give me the silent treatment instead of talking it out? Is that your solution y/n?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms defensively. "I didn’t expect it to drag on this long. I was upset,but Maybe then I get tired of being treated like an afterthought."

"An afterthought?" he scoffed back, incredulous. "You haven't spoken to me in days!"

"And whose fault is that?" I shot back, my voice rising. "You waltzed over to those Ravenclaw girls like they were the only ones who existed!"

"That was a stupid attempt to get your attention, alright!" he snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I never meant to make you feel like an afterthought."

"But you did!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the damp chamber.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I messed up, okay? I know that! But instead of talking to me about it, you shut me out."

"And what was I supposed to do?" I countered, my voice softening slightly. "Sit back and watch you flirt with every girl who walks by?"

"It wasn't flirting!" he defended, his voice strained.

"Then what was it?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like flirting."

"That's not fair," he said, his voice low. "And what about what you said? Visiting that perk in the hospital? Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

He was so close that I could feel his breath on my face

"Maybe I overreacted about Michael," I mumbled, finally breaking the silence.

"Maybe you did," he agreed cautiously anger in his eyes and lips so close to mine

“it’s really fucking rich of you to push the blame into me “ I screamed in his face frustration boiling over

“yet i was the only one putting in the effort to fix things!” He said back with lips so close to mine

“you didn’t even —” pulling me close. In a rush his lips were on mine I didn’t get to finish the words . It took a few moments for me to come to my senses; letting my eyes flutter closed as i kissed him back. The kiss wasn't gentle or sweet. It was needy and heated as mattheo’s tongue moved against mine.

In an instant, I found myself pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring me hungrily. His hand on the back of my neck drew me closer, while the other rested on my waist, kneading the flesh there. He pulled away slightly, speaking against my lips “ jump”He ordered, and I complied wrapping my legs around him

"Mattheo—" He silenced me once more with a kiss.

His black hair was hanging down into his face, so i pushed it back. 

As he ended the kiss, his hands reached for my robe, tossing it aside. Next, his fingers trailed to the hem of my shirt, pulling it upward. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with mine as he removed the shirt, adding it to the pile on the ground. . “If you just wanted a dirty fuck , you should have just asked” 

Gently placing me on the bed, he observed as I sank into the soft sheets. He removed his shirt and joined me, straddling my hips without a word. His eyes held mine as he pushed up my skirt. "This stays," he stated firmly, maintaining direct eye contact.

He then moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, he pulled down the lace material, causing me to close my eyes in response to the sensation.

"Matt, what are you doing?" I asked breathlessly, feeling his warm breath against my thighs.

His hands glided up and down my thighs, eliciting a soft moan from me as I savored the sensation of his skin against mine. It had only been a week, but I missed this closeness immensely.

My eyes flew open as his hands gently spread my legs, his face drawing closer between my thighs.“ You’re so wet for me.” he chuckled cockily “ i this a new kink we just discovered “

“you’re so full of Yourself .” I didn’t help the smile that comes

“and you’re about to be full of me, so what does that make us?” He Murmuring as His hands wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer to his mouth.

“ Merlin's Beard! “I moaned so loudly

never breaking eye contact as his tongue lapped at my wetness. I moaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming me as Matt's tongue explored my wetness. Each flick of his tongue and gentle suck sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me tremble beneath him. My heart raced, the sound echoing in my ears as I expressed how much I had missed him.

"God, Matt, I missed you so much," I moaned, my mouth agape and my toes curling into the sheets. My hands instinctively tangled in his hair, urging him on with each movement. I cried out his name as the intensity built, feeling like I was on the brink of ecstasy.

But then, it stopped.

Confused and desperate, I lifted my head from the pillow, tears in my eyes as I struggled to catch my breath. "Why... why did you stop?" I cried out, my voice a mixture of frustration and need.

Matt flashed me an amused smile, teasing me further with a kiss to my aching clit. My breathing quickened again as he kissed along my inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where I wanted him most.

"Matt," I whimpered, regretting the frustration I must have caused him. His kisses trailed back up my body until he was face to face with me, watching me quiver beneath him.

"Please," I begged softly, feeling the desperation creeping into my voice.

“ what is it my sweet girl? “ He brushed my hair aside and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "You've been teasing me all week," he murmured, his eyes filled with desire. "Wearing those short skirts, laughing with my friends, giving me the silent treatment."

He kissed me again, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "I've wanted nothing more than to take you right then and there , to fuck you senseless that my name will be the only thing you remember " he confessed, his voice husky with desire.

His lips trailed down to my earlobe, where he bit it softly, eliciting another moan from me. His mouth continued its journey, claiming every inch of my body with his tongue and teeth, until he reached my chest.

I arched back, silently pleading for his attention on my breasts. With a teasing hook of his finger, he slid down the neckline of my top, removing the lace of my bra in the process. His mouth captured one nipple, sucking slowly while his free hand caressed the other.

His actions sent shivers down my spine as he licked, sucked, and bit, creating a delicious rhythm that had me gasping for more.

"I'm sorry," I cried out, tears welling up in my eyes. "I missed you so much, and seeing you laughing with those girls hurt."

"I know, my sweet girl, I know," he whispered, his head buried between my legs once more. "Let me make it up to you."

With renewed fervor, he sucked harshly on my clit, his fingers pumping in and out of me rhythmically. The combination of sensations overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but moan in pleasure.

As my body reached its peak, I gripped his hands tightly, feeling the fluttering release of my orgasm. I moaned his name loudly, I moaned his name probably too loudly for ghosts in the castle liking, pulled him up for a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of myself on his lips.

“Turn around,” he says,

I obeyed his command to turn around, and he slowly unpinned my hair, letting it cascade down my back in loose waves. He pushed it over one shoulder with deliberate care, his fingers trailing down my spine, igniting goosebumps along my skin , his fingers trailing down my spine, brushing the skin on my back.

His lips found their way to my neck, planting soft kisses that trailed down to my shoulder. Then, I felt his fingertips running along my skin again, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His touch entered my hot, dripping core, and I couldn't help but let out a loud moan, begging for more.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice filled with desire.

"Yeah," I managed to say between moans.

“Is this why you were shouting nonsense at me? Because all you really wanted was me to fuck you senseless? Huh?” His words were like fire, and as he added another finger, I couldn't help but scream in pleasure.

continued to pump his fingers into me, increasing the intensity with each stroke. his finger got faster and faster His thumb pressed onto my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body, gripping the bedding hard as the third finger carefully joins the others hitting my g-spot continuously , trying to close my legs, his free hand keep them parted I felt my orgasm building stronger than ever before, my body unable to contain the pleasure.

He turned me around, kissing my cheek softly before returning to my open mouth, sucking my bottom lip between his own. "That was so hot," he grunted, concern lacing his tone. "Are you alright baby ?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, my chest heaving with each breath. Despite the intensity of the moment, my predominant feeling was one of satisfaction and desire.I hummed

“ need words my love “

"Yes Matt I’m alright " I managed to say, pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss.

His hips pressed against mine as we kissed, his covered arousal rubbing against my heat, sending a surge of desire through me. I trailed my hands down his muscular back until I reached the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Baby, stop," he murmured, concern lacing his tone. "Are you sure you want to keep going? I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed."

"I've never been more sure about anything," I whispered, kissing his cheek. "I missed you, I want you."

He moaned as I touched his erect member through the fabric, his breath hitching slightly. "You need to stop, love," he managed to say, his voice strained with desire.

"Sorry," I replied, pulling my hands away quickly. He leaned down to kiss my neck softly, causing me to close my eyes and wrap my arms around him.

"You never have to apologize," he whispered against my earlobe before whispering, "I’m going to make love to you," and pressing his lips to mine in tender kisses. then onc again pressing his lips to mine in sweet, sweet kisses.

one of my favourite thing about mattheo is how gentle he can be. He can be so passionate when he wants to and right now i can feel the love behind his kisses. 

Feeling his cock tapping against my clit a few times, I couldn't help but let out a moan as he guided himself into me. Taking hold of my leg again, he used them both as leverage to push himself fully inside me. I moaned into his ear, my breath hitching in anticipation.

"Fuck," I whispered, watching him mutter under his breath as he slid in and out of me slowly. The sensation was incredible; I could feel every inch of him dragging over my most sensitive parts.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby," he whispered, and I opened my teary eyes slowly, doing as he said. He smiled, his gaze filled with desire. "That's it, good girl ."

Still buried deep inside me, his movements began to pick up speed. My breath caught in my throat as pleasure surged through me.

"Oh," I gasped, my head dropping back as my mouth fell open in pleasure.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted with each thrust. "So fucking mine."

I hummed in response, words escaping me as Mattheo continued to drive me wild. With each thrust, my moans grew louder, reaching a crescendo of pleasure.

"Mattheo," I moaned, his name leaving my lips like a prayer.

"That's it, baby," he replied, his lips devouring mine softly. "So beautiful, moaning my name like that."

With a gentle touch, he pushed my hair out of my face before placing his hands on my cheeks. His eyes roamed my face while he continued to thrust into me at a slow, deliberate pace. I looked at him with half-lidded eyes, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

As he started to thrust harder, I grabbed a fistful of the sheets, feeling the intensity building within me. His hips bucked against me, his face buried in the crook of my neck. The faster pace and increased pressure caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I was on the edge of my high, having come so close moments earlier.

"Mattheo, I can't wait any longer," I screamed out, wrapping my legs around his torso tightly and intertwining our hands.

"Not yet," he grunted, turning his head to meet my gaze. He continued to move in and out of me, keeping eye contact as he held himself up by his forearms. I was so sensitive that the delay in my orgasm began to ache, and I felt the need to let go.

"Please, let me cum, baby," I pleaded, sounded desperate, begging him not to pull away at the last minute again. "I can't..."

And just as I was about to reach my breaking point, he freed one of his hands and snuck it between us, his fingers expertly rubbing at my clit and pushing me over the edge.

"I need you to do something for me, pretty girl. Want to try something?" he asked, and I nodded, willing to do anything he asked in that moment.

He kept everything slow, almost torturous, building up the tightening pressure inside of me with each pass before thrusting so hard the next time that I felt like I was going to pass out.

"Don't be nervous," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Just relax and let go. I'll keep going until you tell me to stop." His soft tone sent flutters through my heart, and I nodded in response.

My breath hitched as his hand returned to my clit, igniting a fire in my belly. His hard thrusts hit my g-spot, and I screamed out, clinging onto his hand as if my life depended on it.

"Shit," I hissed, feeling him deep inside me, the pleasure building into a heavy weight in my gut. A tingling sensation hummed through my limbs.

"Let go, baby," he ordered, and I did just that as waves of pleasure crashed over me. It was an intense release unlike anything I'd ever felt before, leaving me shakily tilting my head up, tears in my eyes as I watched clear fluid gushing out of me each time Mattheo pulled back.

When he noticed me watching, he withdrew entirely, bringing his soaked fingers to my clit and rubbing fast circles that made me cry out loudly as my muscles spasmed again. Without his presence inside me, an unbroken stream of fluid rushed out, spraying over the bed sheets.

"Oh my god," I whimpered, needing a moment to focus on the overwhelming sensations. Mattheo made a noise of appreciation, reentering me, the wet sounds now more intense as he pushed in again.

"That's my good girl, you just squirted for me, baby. See how good you are," he praised, his words adding to the intensity of the moment.rl you just squirt for me baby see how good you are ”

Pounding into my g-spot hard enough to make my legs shake, he elicited another wave of pleasure that rolled through me. Instinctively, my body responded to Mattheo's instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of me as I moaned softly with each pump of his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I gasped in sync with his movements.

"Holy shit," Mattheo rasped as he drew his fingers out again, groaning when he returned to my clit and easily worked even more wetness out of me. "You just keep fucking cuming, baby."

I could barely process what he was saying. "Please, cum inside me, Matt," I wanted to mention that I finally got on pills this week but couldn't find the energy to.

"Yeah?" He breathed, "Want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?" Thrusting hard, his fingers still circling my clit, I moaned out his name as I squirted again and again. My pussy started to quiver as he continued to fuck me through it, crying out loudly when I felt him coming inside me as well.

Wetness splashed out of me in endless spurts, soaking my cunt, his hand, and the bed. It felt like I was coming for hours, amazed at what my body was capable of.

"You okay, my love?" He asked, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at me. My eyes were closed, and I gave no indication that I was listening to him, feeling like I had passed out for a second.

"Hey angel, open your eyes to me, please," Mattheo implored, kissing my cheeks and rubbing his thumb soothingly.

"Yeah, I just need a moment," I managed to whisper, feeling drained. "I think you ruined me, Matt," I added with a weak smile.

He chuckled softly, giving me kisses all over my face. "Yeah?" he teased.

"In a good way though," I reassured him.

With a small grunt, Mattheo pushed himself off of me and sat up from the bed. I reached out for him, not wanting him to leave my side yet. He chuckled at my antics, lightly grasping my hand and stroking my fingers before letting it go and stepping away.

"Just going to grab a few things to clean you up, love. I promise I’ll be right back," he assured me.

Nodding, I closed my eyes again, too exhausted to do anything else.

"I brought you some water, darling. You should drink a little," he said as he sat back down on the bed next to me, helping me sit up a bit. I complied lazily, sipping from the glass he held against my lips.

"Now, spread your legs a little, sweetheart. I need to clean you up. Not too sore?" He asked as he gently cleaned me up with a washcloth, my body still sensitive .

As he cleaned me up and tidied the sheets, I felt sleep starting to take over me, comforted by his warmth and embrace. He kissed my face a few times and chuckled softly before I finally drifted off to sleep, feeling content and loved.

"I don’t think I would ever be able to walk again," I joked softly .

"I would carry you then," he replied affectionately.

"Since it’s all your fault, so yes," I teased, feeling a mix of emotions.

"I’m so sorry," he apologized sincerely

"Matt—"

"No, listen. I’m really sorry for everything. It was all my fault from the start. I shouldn’t have promised you that and then go and break it the next day," he admitted regretfully.

“ I’m so sorry too “ I hugged him tightly, hiding my face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling the blanket over us.

"Can we sleep here tonight?" I asked, wanting to be close to him.

"We can do anything you want, baby. I will do whatever you want," he promised, kissing my forehead.

"I love you so, so much," I whispered, feeling sleepiness creeping in.

"I love you so much too, my love," he replied, kissing my forehead back.

"Baby?" he said after a moment.

"Yeah?" I replied, feeling sleepy.

"Did you ever think about kids?" he asked, surprising me.

I laughed softly. "What?"he said

"I’m on pills, baby. I finally managed to get them," I explained, resting my head on his chest as I got ready to sleep.

"Baby?" he said again, and I hummed in response.

"Just for your information, I’m going to hit that Zacharias boy so hard tomorrow he can join Michael in the hospital, and Michael doesn’t have to feel lonely anymore. I’m telling you now,"

"I was thinking about hexing him into a toad, but we can decide tomorrow," laughing while giving him one last kiss I said .

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1 : “Unveiled” [cyberstalking] for Kinktober.

♡stalker! fyodor d. x afab! reader.

♡Synopsis: your secret life as a streamer takes a wild turn when feyda becomes dangerously obsessed with you, well uh.. obsessed enough to break in, not just to watch, but to finally fuck you.

♡Warnings: ņsfw, mdni, smųt with plot, cyberstalking, cybersex, obsessed! fedya, bdsm themes, non-con recording, dark themes, bondage, oral, cum mentioned, unprotected sex..etc.

♡Word count & a/n: 4k, i'm so sorry. i know i'm horrendously late. i may or may not morph into some sort of poetic lunatic by the end of this fic ppft. also, shoutout to fedya’s art by the brilliant " @isabeau333 " on x.

[SEE: Kink Coin & Winners Scoreboard]

it’s 1:46 a.m. again. you’re sitting on your bed, eyes wide open, staring at the glow of your phone screen. tonight feels different, but you can’t wrap your finger on why. there's a stillness in your own bedroom that makes your skin prickle with unease. you should be asleep by now—work’s in a few hours—but your body hums with a strange kind of thrill. a thrill you haven’t felt since him.

you unlock your phone and scroll through your messages—nothing. the usual fans, the usual comments. until you see it, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you catch the latest one:

unknown: “don’t bother, my dear. i’m already inside.”

unconsciously, your breath catches in your throat. inside? inside where? your fingers freeze as you stare at the screen. is someone actually stalking you? you can't help but think what if it’s just a prank, someone trying to mess with you, make you think that you're crazy or something.

but deep down, you know better.

because nothing exciting ever really happens to you. not in your real life, anyway. you’ve got your 9-to-5 job, well, the same routine every day as it was before him. you come home, make lunch, and watch a show to unwind from the long, exhausting day at work. mundane. predictable.

but after midnight, everything changes.

it’s the part of your life no one knows about. not even your closest friends. as soon as the clock hits 12, you shift into someone else entirely. that secret side of you comes alive, and for a few hours every night, you stream games to a hidden audience, identity shielded by the anonymity of your kitsune mask.

you’re known online as "kitsunekitten," a name that’s grown more popular than you ever expected. thousands of fans tune in religiously to watch you play everything from dishonoured to lies of p, dead cells, or resident evil. and with every stream, your fanbase grows. the praise, the attention—it feels good.

your phone buzzes again.

unknown: “look behind you.”

you freeze, breath hitching with fear as you feel the slight shiver spread across your body. your gaze darts to the corner of the room, where your webcam sits innocently atop your monitor. you’ve always felt secure with the mask on—no one could ever see your face, not really. but now? the idea that someone might be looking through the lens, watching your every move, makes your skin crawl.

for a long moment, you don’t move. you don’t dare to. but the urge to check if it's him is eating you alive. slowly, your head turns, heart pounding as your eyes scan the obscured room behind you.

there's nothing.

the room is exactly how you left it—empty, quiet.

your shoulders sag in relief, though your nerves still remain frayed, buzzing with adrenaline. you stand from your desk, pacing, trying everything just anything to shake the unease that's wrecking your system. you glance at the clock: 1:49 a.m. it’s too late to still be awake, but you’re wired. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not after those messages.

your phone buzzes again, and against your better judgment, you grab it.

unknown: “you’re so cute when you’re scared.”

your blood runs cold, a shiver racing down your spine. there’s no way they can actually be inside… right? you check the door, locked. the windows, closed. you even peek through the curtains, scanning the street below. everything is as it should be, yet the feeling of being watched is suffocating.

how do they know?

another message:

unknown: “why don’t you check the stream again?”

your heart nearly stops. you rush back to your desk, hands trembling as you click open your streaming software. the screen flickers showing your room through the webcam—but something’s off.

the feed is lagging, slow, as if struggling to keep up. then, for a split second, you see it—a shadow in the corner of the room. you blink, leaning closer, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

panic sets in, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to do. but before you can type anything, another message appears, this time in the stream chat. their username, the same one that’s been following you for a few days now: raskolnikov.

“i like your mask, but it’s time we get rid of it, don’t you think?”

your pulse races trying your best to shut the stream down, but your cursor freezes. the mouse won’t respond. every click is to no avail. the screen blurs for a moment before the video feed cuts to black.

what the hell is going on?

then, just as you're about to reach for your phone to call 911, your screen lights up again, showing a video file playing. it’s footage of you—a vivid footage from inside your apartment. to be more exact from your bedroom. you recognize the view, the angle—it’s from your own webcam showing you, sleeping, unaware of the camera watching your every move you make.

your stomach churns. this isn’t real, no... this can’t be real.

then you hear it. this time, a voice comes from right behind you. it filters through your ears, clear with a chilling calmness to it.

“did you miss me, myskha?”

your body locks up, thrill tightening your throat. god! you're so stupid, of course it's him, you should've known it's him, that smooth, taunting tone you’d recognise anywhere.

it’s fyodor dostoevsky.

a few months ago, things were simple. your streams were gaining traction, and the messages were nothing out of the ordinary. until him.

it started small—just a user in your chat, “@demonfyodor,” who seemed more attentive than others. you didn’t think much of it at first. his comments were polite, sometimes even helpful. but then, they became more specific. he knew details about your personal life, things you had never shared on stream—what books you were reading, the colour of the shirt you wore to work that day.

you ignored it at first, brushing it off as a coincidence. but the coincidences kept piling up. he knew too much.

and then, the gifts started arriving. packages with no return address. items you’d mentioned offhandedly during a stream—a game you were interested in, a book you had your eye on, even a necklace you admired. they all came, perfectly wrapped, as if sent by someone who was always listening, aways watching.

by then, the messages grew more intense, sliding into your dms with a casual ease that sent shivers down your spine. easy to say that he wanted more than just to watch. he craved interaction, intimacy, a connection that transcended beyond the screen. and the thrill of having someone so alluringly close was insanely intoxicating, especially when you wore your mask, the anonymity allowing you to explore sides of yourself you’d long kept hidden.

at first, it was thrilling to engage in these flirty exchanges with him. fyodor had a specific way of using words that wrapped around you like silk, enticing you into a world of pleasure you had almost forgotten. he’d ask if you liked the gifts he sent—those perfect little treasures that you've always secretly craved. new packages started arriving, each one with a rush of excitement, revealing items that teased at your wildest fantasies—handcuffs, whips, and other bdsm delights that you had secretly wanted to try but never had the courage to explore.

you’d spent so long alone, single for what felt like an eternity, that you never expected to be so drawn to these fantasies again.

you found yourself lost in hours of texting, often escalating to calls and even facetiming late at night. there was this specific magnetic pull between you, a connection that was both so thrilling yet unbelievably terrifying. and the unforgettable nights you shared became an addiction—worse than nicotine, you realised.

safe to say that fyodor was different. well, he was smart, intuitive, and oh, that half-lidded gaze of his, those captivating amethyst eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul, made it nearly impossible to resist. the way he smirked when he facetimed you, so confident and smooth, drew you in like a cat to catnip.

fyodor had a unique talent for making you cum over and over again without even being in the same room. his silk smooth voice filling your senses with his soft moans and luscious whispers. you could almost feel him there with you, as if he knew every secret spot that would send you twirling into ecstasy.

“just for me, darling,” he would murmur in the dead of night, calling you while you lay there, helplessly aroused, stroking his deliciously lengthy pale cock while whispering sweet nothings that seemed to tangible your desire. it was intoxicating.

and oh the thrill of being sprawled out in front of him through the lens, just for his viewing pleasure, became a nightly ritual. you’d slowly slide the lavender dildo he gifted between your slick-coated folds, moaning softly as you fucked yourself just for him, eagerly awaiting his reaction. every squirm, every gasp was a performance, and the way he admired your every inch of you, the way his gaze burned into you through the screen, made it all the more exhilarating. you loved how pretty he made you feel, how desired, and how alive.

and then came the darker undertones—the realisation that the line between thrill and danger was razor-thin, especially when your connection to him spiraled deeper into obsession.

you were obsessed—completely consumed by him, and you could swear he felt the same. fyodor was always there, filling the void with his words and voice. until one day… he just disappeared.

no warning, no goodbye. nothing, just… gone.

he deleted all of his accounts, his number, everything. every trace of him, wiped clean, deactivated as if he had never existed in the first place. you thought it was some kind of sick game at first. a punishment, maybe? but for what ? you didn’t know. all you knew was the desperate, gnawing need for answers.

you spent days—weeks, really—searching for any trace of him, some clue, something that would explain why he’d vanish so suddenly. but there was nothing. it was as if he had planned this all along, like a predator keeping his prey hooked, dangling just out of reach before vanishing into the void, leaving you stranded in the wake of your obsession.

you’d find yourself obsessively refreshing your streams, hoping his username would pop up in the chat as it used to, scouring your dms, wondering if maybe he was still watching you, lurking among the anonymous fans. you caught yourself imagining him behind every new follower, every message, wondering if he was there, pulling the strings once again.

three months of silence. three agonizing months of waiting, hoping, wondering. were you in love with him? or was it just a pure obsession? you couldn’t tell anymore. all you knew was that he had burrowed into your life, into your mind, so deeply that it felt like you were drowning without him.

your late-night streams had become hollow rituals, devoid of the thrill they once held. the gifts he’d sent were still there, tucked away, untouched since his disappearance. you couldn’t bring yourself to use them anymore, not without him. Not without his voice in your ear, telling you how perfect you were, how beautiful you looked writhing on camera just for him.

"you're shaking my dear are you okay"

his smooth, silky voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts. okay? you're anything but okay. is he even kidding right now? you almost had a heart attack, convinced someone was about to kill you.

your hands tremble, mind racing with dozens of thoughts, questions colliding together in your head. but against all logic, despite the overwhelming fear, you can’t help but feel the familiar rush of dopamine hit your brain receptors.

you missed him. and you know exactly what that means.

he’s right there, sitting on your bed—flesh and bone, not just pixels on a screen. it’s almost too much to process. you hate to admit it, but he’s even more handsome in person. those amethyst eyes are sharper, more intriguing, and his smirk… makes your stomach twist with longing.

then, his voice again hypnotic, like velvet draping over your hearing senses:

“i’m sorry, myshka. i didn’t mean to disappear like that... i had some things to take care of.” he pauses, eyes searching your face for any sign that might let him push further. but all he finds is panic, disbelief, and hurt.

“i—i don’t understand,” you stammer, desperately searching for a way to make sense of it all.

his hand reaches out, brushing your cheek lightly. the touch makes you flinch, but it’s not out of fear. it's the way your body responds—a pink hue spreading underneath your cheeks colouring them so adorably.

“you’re trembling, my dear” he whispers, thumb trailing down to your lips. “but not just from fear, is it? no… there's something else, isn’t there, darling?”

you should push him away. you should scream. but instead, you stay frozen, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb presses lightly against your lower lip, and you can see the striking plum violet and mauve lines in his amaranthine irises.

“you’re so beautiful without the mask,” he continues, leaning slightly forward. “i’ve missed this. missed you.”

oh shit! the mask—how did you forget it? the realisation hits you like a truck, leaving you feeling achingly exposed, like a delicate flower stripped of its petals. is this okay? will he hurt you?

his other hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around your side delicately, drawing you closer to him.

“i’ve been watching you, myshka,” he smiles, that damn smile that you've always wondered when you'll see again. “every night, waiting for the right moment to return.”

“did you think about me?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully, as if he already knows the answer. you swallow hard, not sure if you should be honest with him or not.

“y-yes,” you finally admit, of course, you thought about him—every single day and night. his essence always lingered in your mind like an addiction, one you couldn’t quite shake off. every moment of your life was coloured by the hope of his return.

“tell me what you want, myshka,” his eyes roam over your nightgown, captivated by how your lavender bra hugs your breasts so perfectly from underneath. tracing the cascade of your hair down your shoulders, with a few wisps caught teasingly between the soft curves of your cleavage. “i can give you everything and more.”

oh lord—the way he says it makes your vision blurs with lust, you want to tell him, you want to confess all of your darkest desires, the fantasies you’ve spun in the solitude of your room. but words fail you. instead, your body leans instinctively toward him, humming in delight, craving the contact you’ve denied yourself for so long.

“the little toys i sent you are gathering dust, aren’t they? i think it’s time we put them to use.”

your breath catches in your throat. how did he know? you hesitate for a second before rushing to your closet, fingers trembling slightly as you open the drawer and pull out the baby blue handcuffs and the magenta vibrator he gifted you months ago his smirk widens as he watches you, an amsuing glint speading into his eyes.

“good choice,” he murmurs, stepping closer to take the items from your hands, smirking viciously as he holds the cuffs like a trophy. “let’s see how well you can follow my orders tonight.”

slowly, he begins to undress you, hands exploring every inch of your soft skin as if you're a forbidden fruit in eve's garden. he traces his fingers along your arms, down your hips, then to your neck down your spin and the cloudy pillows of your ass. each touch makes your skin pebble, radiating flames under his tender touches. you’re not just his toy, you’re his masterpiece.

once he’s stripped you down to nothing, he leads you to the bed and gently handcuffs your wrists to the headboard, securing you in place. you're quite aware that there's a thin line between excitement and anxiety but right now? all you can think about is what he is planning.

as he finishes, he swoops down, lips brushing yours so teasingly, before pressing his cold ones against yours in a gentle chaste kiss growing handsier by each second, causing you to let out a muffled hum of surprise.

he pulls back watching your heaving chest as you catch him holding your kitsune mask, a vicious smile curling on his lips. “you know I can’t have my favorite little fox completely unmasked,” he teases, lifting it toward your face, placing the mask over your features to obscure your identity as he holds a camera in his other hand aiming it at you, its lens capturing the erotic moment. “i want to remember every exquisite detail,” he grouses erotically—placing the camera on your night stand before slowly taking off his clothes.

your breath hitches as you take in his details through the mask. yes, you've seen him naked multiple times before, but it was always behind the camera lenses, never this close. his body is pale and perfectly structured, and oh god, his waist—how is he that beautiful?

your gaze drifts lower, eyes widening as they lock onto his hard cock, the tip glistening and teasingly brushing against your slick folds. it’s a sight that sends a jolt of desire pooling low in your stomach. you want him—need him—right now.

he spreads your folds with two digits, looking eagerly with darkened amethyst orbs as your delicious juices drool from your empty hole.

“oh... myshka, your pussy is so much softer than i imagined.” he purrs as he watches your glossy lips part slightly letting out muffled mewls, the mask frames your features, leaving your mouth exposed for him. he tilts his hips ever so slightly letting the tip of his cock glide against your buzzing clit.

“mnff...fedya,” here comes your needy whimpers that he adores.

he lowers himself, so that his mouth is just a few inches from your cunt, warm breath faning against your wet puffy folds making your cunt gush more and more of its sweet juices.

he begins with teasing licks, the hot muscle swirling around your sensitive clit in circular motion, each flick makes your back arch and hips instinctively buck up yearning for more. a muffled 'mmff' vibrates against your hot sex, as he tastes the sweet honey seeping from between your folds like you’re the sweetest nectar.

“mmff myshka, can you stop moving so much?” he murmurs against your heat core, the vibrations adding to the delicious torment. his fingers dive deeper, curling inside you as he continues to work your clit with his mouth, the combination making you moan loudly, while struggling against your restrained hands, you desperately try to break free, yearning to let your fingers tug on his luscious black silk hair.

“please… more,” you gasp, unable to contain the desperation in your voice as he responds with a low, pleased growl, redoubling his efforts to bring you close enough to your sweet release.

but just as you’re about to cum, he suddenly pulls away. a desperate whimper escapes your lips, the pleasure abruptly cut off as you watch him with wide eyes, feeling the emptiness where he was just a moment ago.

“not yet, myshka,” he chuckles, licking his lips to taste the ghost of you.

without warning, he rams inside you, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. a sharp gasp leaves your mouth as he stretches you, the sudden intrusion makes your vision blurry, stars flashing behind your eyes making every nerve in your body tingle with pleasure. as you feel yourself close to your release again, your walls clenching around him instinctively.

“черт! тебе так хорошо.” (fuck! you feel so good.) he groans as he begins to thrust deep, each swing of his hips sending ripples of ecstasy radiating from your core. “this tight little pussy of yours..ngh..is going to become my new obsession..mff”

you mull over his words as they feed at all parts of your hollow heart, making you feel butterflies in your stomach mingling with the coil tightening in your lower abdomen.

lost in a haze of blissful moans and blurred vision, you barely notice fyodor's hand gliding over to the vibrator. the moment he presses it against your swollen clit, a scream escapes your lips, a sound of pure ecstasy that mingles with his deep, satisfied moan. the buzzing sensation resonates deep within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your entire body. as his heavy shaft with veins straining against the skin, finds new pleasure points inside you that he commits to memory eager for the next time you make love.

heat coils between you as his furrowed brows speak of pure, concentrated desire. each deep stroke reshapes your walls, molding them to the weight and curve of his delicious lengthy cock, making sure no one else could ever fill you up the way he does. when your eyes meet, it’s like gazing into a galaxy of forbidden stars—his eyes telling you of a dark beauty of pleasure that pulls you higher and higher and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass blends with your moans, each collision driving you closer to the intoxicating edge of bliss.

you’re absolutely lost in the art of it, the way his body claims yours, painting pleasure across every nerve until the world outside dissolves and all that remains is just the two of you.

his breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps, tension in his muscles like the pull of a bowstring, ready to spill inside you at any given moment. he swells, every stroke only adding more fuel to the release building between you. the world narrows to this moment, the brush of his sweaty skin against your heaving chest, the pulse of pleasure echoing through your body with the buzzy rhythm of the vibrator pressed on your clit drives you straight away to your own release.

it's like stars colliding in the vastness of a violet sky, you shatter together. his name spills from your lips in a cry, body arching as pleasure crashes over you, flooding your senses. his hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives deeper, groaning low in his chest. and then you feel the heat of his release blooms inside you, filling you in waves as your walls pulse around him, pulling him in even tighter.

your bodies tremble in the afterglow, the world spinning and slowing until only the soft hum of breath and the fading echoes of pleasure remain. you glance at his irresistible eyes, seeing the remnants of that celestial fire, a shared intimacy that lingers even as the stars dim and the night settles into quiet.

he reaches over with a steady hand, grabbing the camera set just beyond the edge of the bed, with a smirk curling his lips, he flicks it off, the soft click signaling the end of the recording before he leans closer, fingers brushing against your cheekbone as he slowly pulls the mask off your face and gently frees your aching wrists from the restraints.

“beautiful,” he murmurs with a thick russian accent, his breath mingles with yours for a heartbeat before he closes the gap, capturing your lips in another deep, passionate kiss, mouth moving erotically against yours with the same fervor that had driven him moments before, as if he’s still chasing the aftershocks of pleasure through the taste of your glossy now-swollen lips.

“moya lyubov, you're designed just for me.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧

When Eddie sees her, sitting on the picnic table, her feet shuffling back and forth on the bench like that one dancing scene from The Breakfast Club (so what if he went to go see it? It's a good flick!), he almost runs back the way he came.

Because here's the thing about Robin Buckley.

While Eddie's status at the bottom of the social ladder is guaranteed, what with his hobbies and his music and his ability to irritate even the most patient of individuals (bar Uncle Wayne, blessed be the man), he doesn't fuck with Robin Buckley.

She was never anything to write home or gossip over coffee about, not when Eddie started his first senior year or even before that, when he was just starting up Hellfire and went to band to see if he could recruit any lonesome souls. Robin wasn't interested then, more keen to avoid his eye and fumble with her uniform, so he chalked her up as another lost to the masses.

Then all the shit with the Zombie Boy (a killer moniker, wouldn't that make for an awesome song title?! But he doesn't know if it'd be like, copyright infringement or whatever) went down and he got a little more protective of his circle, cloaking them from the unmerciful eyes of the Hawkins mob, pushing back when shit hit the fan and that mob tried impeding on his people.

And it worked! Nobody messed with him or his, not enough to be met with more than a snort - hell, even that asshole Hargrove stayed away after Eddie pulled a knife on him in the school parking lot. He wonders if all that wild anger the dick had to choke down went into the fight he had with -

Anyways.

Point is that Eddie knows his place, and thanks to a little intimidation and a lot of false-turned-true-confidence, nobody messes with him.

The thing is - he still doesn't mess with Robin Buckley.

Like he said, she was always another one of the masses to him, and he never expected any different.

But then something happened to her.

Some people say that she got trapped in the mall fire and it burned half her face off, she's just wearing enough makeup to cover it up, but it messed with her head.

Other people say she was always a little - uh, airheaded, he'll say, to be polite - and the Starcourt fire just made it more obvious, burned through the façade she'd wear in public.

One or two voices whisper that she's being haunted, that when she laughs to herself in the silence of the classroom, it's because of the spirits of Starcourt's casualties that lurk in her shadow.

(That last one was Jeff actually, and Eddie has to hand it to him for the poetic imagery.)

Any way he hears it, Eddie's instincts go red alert, telling him to give Robin a wide berth in the hallways, to avoid eye contact for longer than a single moment, to ignore her quiet snickers every time he ties his hair up.

So yeah, when he's about to head to his favourite picnic table and finds wacky Robin Buckley laughing to herself as the leaves around the table kick up without a hint of wind in the air, he almost turns around and shoves himself back into his van. Eddie Munson may be a freak but he's no -

"Oh, you're here."

He freezes in his steps, glancing back to see Robin smiling thinly at him, one legged crossed over the other as she leans back. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she barks out a laugh, making Eddie jump in place.

"Didn't expect you, to be honest." She tilts her head.

Eddie's throat is too dry. He starts a sentence, backtracking when the leaves stop kicking up and it's just his shaky voice in the silence between the trees. "Well, it is my spot, Buckley."

Her eyes glint and she uncrosses her legs just to spread them, leaning in and staring at Eddie with an untethered expression stretching across her face. "Is it?" Her raspy voice asks.

Blood roars in Eddie's ears. His fingers twitch, and he's ready to run.

"Don't." She orders and he freezes. "We need to talk."

He hates it when people say that. It's always, always bad news and it's just too cliché.

"And what, pray tell," he says, raising his arms out with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Is it that you could ask of me?"

The leaves kick up behind him. He resolutely ignores it.

Sighing, Robin crosses her legs, shuffling back on the table (and they call Eddie a heathen, jeez). She looks to the right, where the leaves are swirling in a mini tornado. Her smile is small, and a little sad.

"We need your help."

Eddie gasps as the leaves kick up ferociously, the wind bites at his fingertips and Robin glares at him, at the chaos around them with eyes like nothing he's ever seen.

"Stop it."

"Wh -"

"I said stop," She glares at him and his jaw clicks shut. "We agreed - yeah, yeah, we did! Stop it, you're scaring him!"

"I -"

"I'd say the grown-ups are talking," Robin cuts him off with an eye-roll. "But someone's being a big baby."

"Look, Buckley -"

"I swear to god," Robin waves a hand towards Eddie. "Either you play nice, or we're never figuring this out! Do you wanna be invisible to everyone forever?!"

There's a heavy silence at that.

No leaves rustling, no wind, no nothing.

It's like the entire forest just went...dead.

Then Eddie feels a brush of something down his hand and he screams.

"Awesome!" Eddie jumps when Robin grabs his arm (when did she leave the table?!), staring at her smile as foul terror quakes his bones. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. We won't hurt you."

A rustle of leaves smack his shin and he shrieks, unable to jump (or run) thanks to Robin's steel grip.

"Well, not physically."

"Buckley, I have never messed with you before," Eddie whispers as the something trails down his hand, shoulders and face. He's frozen in the wake of the touch. "Fellow freaks of Hawkins and all, but -"

Whatever it is, it grips Eddie by the shoulders and his jaw clicks shut. Robin's grasp on his arm tightens and she nods, staring into space.

"Okay, so could you do it?"

Silence. Eddie's heartbeat races.

"Like what?"

The something ghosts over his fingers and he almost whimpers.

"Oh, like this!"

With that, Robin grabs Eddie's hand and takes off one of his rings. Before he can sputter or shout or cry, she replaces it with one of her own.

And then, like he was always there, Steve Harrington appears before his eyes.

A bloodied, ghastly Steve Harrington who's staring right into him.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers and the spectre grins a sharp, toothy grin.

"Hey Munson," Steve croons. "Miss me?"

[gay-dorito-dust]

Part 1 here

Tag list: @catr4dora @girlyteengirl18 @pheesfanfics @theilluminatidragonqueen @ryoiii @hehegerms @notsocuriousgeorge @mxr-lvn

You and Stan were enjoying your date so far that Mabel had set you up on, it was a cute little picnic near the waterfall and you were both sat in the perfect spot to over see the entire town. It was perfect and you would have to thank Mabel when you get back before midnight, seeing as she poetically pushed you and Stan out of the shack and told you both to enjoy your date and not to be back before midnight as she shuts the door.

She was a good kid with a big heart and you loved her for that as you fiddled with the bracelet she made you once with small smile.

‘How come we didn’t think of this before? Going on dates I mean.’ You asked as you took a sip from your drink, eyes racking over Stan’s form and admiring how dashing he looked in a burgundy shirt with a couple of buttons undone to show the gold hanging from his neck, accompanied by a matching grey blazer and trousers. With the way he cleans up it was enough to make anyone swoon for him, especially when he wears the cologne you’ve always liked the smell of, the same cologne that he was wearing right now actually as you rested your head against his shoulder.

‘Maybe because we’ve been too busy lying to everyone for thirty years, while also trying to get my brother back that we forget the simpler ways to convince people we’re together.’ Stan replied as he then playfully nudges your side. ‘And here I thought you were the smarter one of us both, toots.’

You swatted his hand away as you smiled sheepishly. ‘I’m smarter in other fields than the romantic one, it’s always alluded me to be fair as I’ve never been on a date before or had anyone express interest.’ You admitted, feeling a little exposed under Stan’s gaze.

‘You’ve never been on a date?’ He asked.

‘Nope.’ You tell him. ‘I was too nerdy and geeky for the most people but too smart and intimidating for others.’

‘Not even my brother?’ Stan then asks with a slight strain in his voice and your brows furrowed.

‘No? Our relationship was strictly platonic and professional. He is a smart individual but we had little to no emotional attachments to one another outside of considering each other a friend.’ You said. ‘Though that maybe due to how isolated we were from everyone else with our research but that comes with the territory of trying to make a break through within the field of paranormal discovery.’ You then added out of a need to provide a logical explanation as to why you and Ford were close.

‘Why you ask?’ You then found yourself asking him this time and Stan scratched the back of his neck as a blush crept across his face.

‘I dunno, just find it odd how someone like you hasn’t been on a date. You’re pretty, smart, funny, albeit a little awkward but that’s what made you cute and endearing, also how you would get this look in your eye when your talking about something you’re passionate about that you have to start moving other parts of yourself because your excitement for it is that great.’ He shrugs as he then looks back at you with the softest look in his eyes as he chuckles. ‘I guess I get bragging rights about taking the most beautiful/handsome smart ass on the perfect date.’

In your eyes Stan looked beautiful in that moment as the butterflies made themselves knowing within your stomach. He knew you inside and out and loved every bit he saw and you couldn’t help but reciprocate the feeling as you found yourself laughing and smiling a lot more in his presence. Stan made you feel as though you could drop being smart for a second and allow yourself to breathe and take in life while you can, he was a smart man who had a way with words when it came to conning people, but here he looked almost as if he were an awkward teenager on his first date.

‘Don’t sell yourself so short Stanley.’ You tell him as you placed your hand atop of his own, squeezing it before intertwining your fingers as you took the moment to recognise that being with Stan just felt right, it felt as though you were meant to be by his side and found yourself waiting impatiently for him to hold you at night and smother you in affection during the day. ‘A date with you is a date I’ll take over any other I would’ve hypothetically had in an alternate reality.’ You admitted, feeling a blush creep across your face as you felt yourself about to admire to something you’ve always had an inkling about, but just didn’t believe it until recently.

‘And why’s that?’ Stan asked, mentally having of the edge of his seat as he hoped you were about to say what he thought you were about to say, for he too had made a similar discovery, which was only amplified and proven right whenever he looked at you in hopes of seeing you smile at something he did or confined yourself in him.

Even now as he looked at you he couldn’t help but smack his younger self for not realising what he felt sooner, he was jealous that his brother got to spend a lot of time with you, but he wouldn’t change anything that had lead you both to where you were now as you have done nothing but brought a sense of happiness to Stan’s life that he had been devoid of since he was kicked out by his father.

You looked at him like he was something and he looked at you like you were everything because to both of you it was the truth. You were what the other needed most and now it had finally come to light all this time later, and after constant adamant denial that you could actually come to like each other, only for you two to do just that and find yourselves liking each other in a way that made words like ‘like’ and ‘love’ not a strong enough description.

‘Because I actually like you Stanley Pines. I really do.’ You confessed and the weight on your chest that had been there for while had suddenly lifted. ‘I really like you Stanley Pines and time and time again I’ve been finding myself falling for you harder than originally thought. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone but here you are’. You finished, frightened as to what Stan would think but found your head being lifted by your chin and looking Stan directly in the eyes.

‘And here I thought I’d live life as a lonely lousy man until I found you toots.’ Stan says softly as he looked back on his life with fondness while hopefully seeing his future in the depths of your eyes. ‘You’ve made me a happier man than I have been in a long, long time and I don’t want to let that go now, so what do you say sweetheart? Be mine officially?’

You held his face in your hands as you pressed a kiss to his slightly chapped lips, humming in delight when you felt him reciprocate the kiss, feeling his hand move from your chin to the back of your head to keep you engaged in the kiss, as if you had any desire to depart from the man you once thought as a nuisance but now a loving reminder that you were allowed to love.

How and why it took you both this long to realise wasn’t of importance anymore as you both got lost in the feel and taste of the others lips, feeling happier then you have ever been in a while. You didn’t need some paper to tell people you were in love, everyone could see that already form how you’d look at one another, a love so rare between two people they can’t help but stop and stare at you and Stan as they wished they had what you had.

You and Stan were perfect for one another and that night you both slept deeper then ever before within the others arms, knowing that what you felt was mutual that you slept with goofy smiles on your faces with a giddy feeling within your chests.

[aureatchi]

⋆ ✦ ˚｡⋆ THIS SUMMER NIGHT WE FIND SCATTERED DREAMS, I ONCE AGAIN RUN IN THE STARLIGHT ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma.

— what it’s like to stargaze with them. (& more)

a/n. sadly, i have yet to see the aurora borealis and in general, seldom get to see the stars. (light pollution my no.1 enemy !!) but a girl can dream :) (& distract herself from the latest bsd chapters..)

info. fem!reader. fluff. soft everyone lol. some of them are nerds & ramble abt stars. :) + a little poetic. mentions of greek mythology. kissing. buildup to actual topic. profanities in chuuya’s & he may or may not use sskk to help. bsd manga/ability spoilers in fyodor’s.

DAZAI : so in this instance, i’d be perseus, and you’d be andromeda. — he listens to everything you have to say.

Your palm in his, the brunette’s pretty fingers wrapped around yours. He softly massaged your hand as you began telling him, your starstruck lover a story under the show of constellations. It had formed into a little routine since the first time you stargazed with him as a date.

“There was this princess,” you started. “Princess Andromeda. She was a very beautiful woma-”

“You’re more beautiful, though,” Dazai interrupted. You didn’t even get in two complete sentences without his commentary. You sat a bit awestruck while he delivered a kiss to your hand.

“Continue, bella,” big brown eyes teased you.

You hastily recovered. “…She was beautiful. And her mother—Queen Cassiopeia—who was very prideful, decided to brag to Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas, that she was prettier than his daughters.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. I brag about you all the time! Why shouldn’t the pretty girl be shown off?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reminiscing over the times the detective had shown you off. Whenever you decided to visit the Armed Detective Agency’s office with Dazai, Kunikida would never hear the end of it. When you two went out to eat, he would flatter your name away. “This gorgeous girl would like to order…” “May I please get a table for the angelic lady and I?”

He never failed to fluster you.

“Anyway, Poseidon got angry and decided to send a sea monster to destroy their kingdom. The only way the monster could be pacified was if it could devour Andromeda.”

“A damsel in distress,” Dazai nodded and then dramatically pretended like he was the helpless princess on the ocean. He completely pulled over the blanket the two of you were sharing, using it as a cape—“Someone save me! I’m going to be eaten by a sea monster!”

“‘Samu! I’m cold!”

“Ah, sorry. Perhaps you are the princess, and you need saving from this icy night!” He rewrapped the blanket over your shoulder.

“Stop interrupting me; I’m trying to tell you something!” It was nowhere near icy, but your lover proved his dramaticism even further when a tuft of brown hair grazed your shoulder. He had rested his head on you.

“Oka-ay—sorry, continue!”

“Meanwhile, Perseus—I told you last time, the man who killed Medusa—found Andromeda while flying over with his horse, Pegasus. He immediately fell in love with her, so he slayed the sea monster and rescued her from the rock she was chained to.”

“What a hero,” Dazai said. “So they lived happily ever after?”

“Not yet. Perseus asked Andromeda’s father for permission to marry her but discovered she was already set to marry someone else. And the man she was engaged to got angry that Perseus wanted to marry her.”

“Of course,” he sighed, which puzzled you a bit, but you’d return to his comment later. “I’m rooting for Perseus, though.”

“Well, good for you because the two fought, and Perseus won by showing the other guy Medusa’s head.”

Dazai chuckled. “Nice move! He turned his enemy into his trophy. Imagine if we did that to all our enemies!”

“I think then we’d have a whole army of statues,” you laughed. “But now, he and Andromeda married, and they were able to live happily ever after.

“The gods placed them in the sky so their story would be remembered eternally.” Finished with your recount, you gazed up at the stars.

“The North Star,” you pointed, and when you saw the brunette’s bronze eyes squint, trying to see what you were talking about, you moved closer until you were halfway on his lap.

You took his palm in yours and guided it to a single star.

“That one. All the characters’ constellations I mentioned in the story revolve around that star. Perseus with his sword, Andromeda flying on Pegasus...”

“Huh? That’s the North Star? Isn’t it supposed to be the brightest in the sky or something?” It didn’t stand out from the rest as much as he thought.

You giggled. “That’s a myth, ‘samu. It’s funny you didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I never really had time to appreciate and learn about something so peaceful like nature until now.” He turned to you.

“Until you.”

You weren’t sure how, but it was almost as if the moonlight had carved out his pretty face. Ethereal, you had called the moon, and it reflected in your lover’s features. His eyes took in the charm of the millions of lights in the night and synthesized the feeling to bring it back to you.

“If I were one of the gods, I would’ve created a whole galaxy reflecting your soul.”

In the midst of terror and chaos, the detective’s eyes revolved around humans and their violence rather than around the sun and the planets. Eyes and soul—how else could he focus on anything else when that’s all life showed him?

“Because I see the constellations in you—Andromeda, Pegasus, Carina, Orion…” it had been a few months, and throughout you had shown and told him all the stories behind the stars in the sky.

“And now I can stop to smell the flowers, love. I can watch the Ursa Minor, even if I still find it hard to sleep.” You were the bridge to his bronze gaze and iron marrow—you showed him that you were human, but that a heart could really exist without violence or malice.

I see a reason why the nebulas are placed as they are, even if stories are just stories. I see a reason I’m here. With you.

He sealed the thought with a kiss to your lips, under the celestial moon and the heavens’ watch.

You always wondered why Dazai paid such close attention whenever you started rambling—initially, you didn’t think he’d care that much about tales of space. But you understood him a bit better now, his complex heart. You held onto him a bit tighter to him as you kissed him back.

…

“Oh yeah. What did you mean when you said ‘of course,’ when I started talking about Perseus having to fight over another guy for Andromeda?”

And Dazai was his lighthearted self once again.

“We’re definitely Andromeda and Perseus in another universe,” Dazai winked. “You’ve always deserved to be treated like a princess! I would totally save you from a sea monster. And I’d be an equestrian if I could too—even better, a flying one!”

“Sure…”

“C’mon, bella, you see me at those horse-racing events all the time! Anyway, most important of all, I had to fight for you. Such a tough world when every other man is also at your feet.” He crossed his arms. “Having Medusa’s head would’ve made things so much easier! I really would’ve had a whole army of stone statues if I did.”

“No, you really didn’t need it at all,” you replied, laughing at Dazai, who was now pouting.

“Osamu the demigod: slayer of monsters or not, I only have eyes for you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“Unlike Andromeda, I wouldn’t let two men fight over me and marry the one who wins.

“I would just choose you right away.”

CHUUYA : babydoll, you’re worth more than all those stars combined. — he only gives you the best.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Thank you for informing me, though,” you said before hanging up the phone.

You didn’t sue them on the line, albeit irritated. Tonight, you were supposed to have a date with Chuuya at one of the fancy restaurants he somehow discovered more of in the city when you thought you finally visited them all, but your reservations were cancelled last minute.

“Hey, princess,” the handsome ginger said when you phoned him next. You could sense a smile through his words on the other end.

“What’s up?”

“Weird-ass restaurant cancelled our plans,” you said. “Not even a refund.”

Chuuya quickly picked up on the disappointment in your voice, and he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t get his money back. Money was nothing—he was a Port Mafia executive. Stacks of bills piled into his hands every day, and he quietly flexed on it through his collection of wine in the cellar, his clothes, and gifts to you.

What he wasn’t wealthy in was time. It had been almost a month since Chuuya had any free time—the boss had been overworking him amidst never-ending Yokohama mayhem. His large penthouse actually proved to be a disadvantage when you were the only one staying in it. It was too empty; it was too quiet for a home, there was an awkward gap in the bed you slept in.

“It’s okay, baby,” came Chuuya’s voice reassuringly. “Don’t worry ‘bout some shitty-ass restaurant.

“Meet me home at the rooftop at the time we originally planned.”

“…Alright,” you replied, unsure of what he was going to do, but you were grateful anyway that you’d get to spend time with him.

“And get ready too, like we originally planned,” he added, and this time, you could imagine the smugness in his smile. “See ya soon.”

…

The bell chimed as the elevator approached the top of Chuuya’s apartment, signaling that you reached the rooftop.

“Chuu?” you called out as the doors opened. He was nowhere to be found—instead a pathway of candles and a trail of rose petals leading to the other side.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you slowly followed the course. It was dark towards the back of the rooftop, but the front overlooked the entire city of Yokohama.

Another quiet flex.

“Hey, beautiful.” You noticed him before the lively city behind him, before the romantic scene he had set up—the path of petals expanded into scattering around the table Chuuya was sitting at. He was dressed up too—looking as attractive as ever.

“The Nakahara Restaurant,” you hummed, taking a seat in front of him. “Not bad.”

Chuuya smirked. “Not bad? We get Michelin stars, baby. Trust me.”

You giggled. “I don’t know about that, Chuu. You’ll have to prove it to me.” It was like you had turned the tables on him. Usually, he only deemed a restaurant good if you were pleased with the food.

“Alright.” Now, you were going to rate his. You could tell he was going to enjoy this.

“You hungry?”

You nodded.

With a snap of Chuuya’s fingers, you immediately heard footsteps scurrying toward the two of you.

Two young men, one with raven hair until silver tips and the other with an entirely silver head—you realized they were waiters from who knows where—approached you with a dish.

“Appetizers by Executive Nakahara,” the first one said.

“Wait—did you cook everything too?”

“Duuh, you take this for a fraud or something?” Chuuya failed to hide the pride on his face.

…

The appetizer, entrée, and dessert proved delicious, and you were forced to eat your previous words.

He was talented in just about everything.

Chuuya kicked the two ‘waiters’ out of his house after dessert was served, leaving the two of you finally alone. The candlelight amid the dark sky enveloped your figures in an intimate glow.

“I would’ve been fine with even just takeout,” you laughed after taking a sip out of your wine glass.

He smiled. “As if. It’s a special night, doll, we finally have time to see each other again.”

“Exactly! Seeing you is what matters most,” you said.

“Anyway, thank you, Chuu. I appreciate this so much. And I guess you’re right—you earn a Michelin Star from me.”

Chuuya looked towards the city below you and back. “Didn’t doubt it one bit. But that’s not the only stars we’re getting tonight.”

You looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get shocked.”

Your lover snapped again—you picked up a slight difference in it this time compared to the previous times he signaled—and suddenly, Yokohama went dark.

You didn’t know how, but the city’s electricity had completely cut off at the mafia executive’s command.

“Chuu—?”

“You’re not looking the right way.”

You had been staring at the pitch-black buildings below in fazed awe, but it seemed to have switched places with the skies as now, small scattered lights began to fade in when you looked up, your eyes adjusting to the dark.

“Chuu!” You stood up in excitement. “We can see stars! In Yokohama!”

The ginger chuckled before pulling out a folded comforter from under the table. “Here, it’s better this way. Now this is what the wine was really for.”

…

Chuuya had fixed the comforter on the rooftop and pulled out a few pillows so that you were able to lie down and watch above more comfortably.

“I did this a lot when I stayed in Paris for a bit,” he said, explaining how he got the idea. “But the lights stayed on 24/7 there, too, so I had to use a telescope.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “We could’ve done that too. You really startled everyone just for this.”

As if on cue, you suddenly heard someone shout in the distance, going “Hey! Who the hell turned off all the lights?!” You and Chuuya both snorted.

“Just for you,” he corrected. “I think this is better anyway. They can handle one night without power. And I made sure the hospitals and other important establishments stayed untouched.”

It was crazy how much power the man had. “Not entirely evil then,” you said.

“Yeah, plus I was also really aiming at that restaurant that tried ruining our plans,” Chuuya smirked.

You looked back at the stars and then Chuuya again, who hadn’t taken his cerulean eyes off your face.

You lay together to gaze at the stars. But instead of those, he was looking at you.

You couldn’t stop the flurry of coyness you got. He looked absolutely stunning under the heavens—it was almost unfair. It would be if you weren’t the one who got to see him in such a state. He looked mesmerized—mesmerized with you?

“Hey, you’re going to miss it if you keep staring at me,” you said.

“I’m seeing you and those galaxies for the first time in a while,” Chuuya replied. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

He kissed you while you were still smiling, causing him to grin, too. You felt light and safe around him and the blankets, and he felt the same. All aggression and stress ceased from his head, healed by you and the moonlight.

“Y’can name stars after people too, right?” he asked when you pulled back. “I swear, I’m going to make the next scientist who discovers one name it after you. It’d be way better than those random shitty names they give nowadays.”

FYODOR : i have the cosmos mapped out, likewise your soul. — you alone, he adores.

There was not a word said as you got into the passenger seat of the car that Fyodor was driving. He had left a note earlier that day—Zolotse, you’re coming with me on a mission tonight. Prepare what you need and bring the sleeping bags, and you had done so with little hesitation.

The sun had already gone down, but you were used to this. Initially, you had thought his job the opposite of himself—the demon was called to bizarre places sporadically and had to adapt to their settings in a short amount of time. You only realized after being with him for a while that he planned these things beforehand, and he planned them long ago.

The job was made for him—his little game of fate and chess.

He drove for around four hours straight. In that time, you had put on your favorite music, and talked with him about the usual—your latest philosophical obsession, anything interesting about his latest endeavors—you hadn’t realized you had gotten so far away from civilization.

Fyodor must’ve become nocturnal from all the time he’d spent in the dark, because it was pitch-black in all directions when he finally parked the car and you stepped out.

And only then you finally asked him. “Fedya, where are we?”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the back of the car and opening the trunk, handing you your sleeping bag and a flashlight.

You flipped the switch on, trying to scan the surroundings for any hint of where this journey took you.

“Darling, you’re quite naïve,” Fyodor said as you looked down at rocks and twigs below your shoes. “I’m concerned about how easily you agreed to let someone drive you hours out into the wilderness.”

“I’d do it only for you,” you replied, giggling. “I trust you.” Alas, he had answered your question, though you still didn’t know what he was here for.

“Follow me. We have a bit of hiking to do.”

…

A secret hideout? Meeting spot? Something valuable hidden here? Your mind came up with countless reasons why your lover’s current mission took place on a mountain and how he could even navigate without a map. The entire thing was strange—you hadn’t even seen him take any valuables of some kind besides a tent and his own sleeping bag.

The walk-up was a bit tedious. Thankfully, you wore the right shoes and had eaten well beforehand, but you still didn’t expect you would be partaking in exercise so late at night. It was also hard to see, the flashlights scarcely making a difference.

You came across a very steep hill; it was almost like you had to climb rather than hike up.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” you heard Fyodor from above as he went first to ensure each step was safe. “It’ll be worth it later.”

“Ah-” You hardly had time to ponder his statement when you misstepped on a loose twig, causing you to slip. However, a hand reached to tightly grab you before you slid down.

“Careful, milaya.”

Fyodor kept your hand clasped in his throughout the rest of the trek. You finally reached a large clearing by the edge of a cliff—devoid of trees and hard bedrock.

“We’re here.”

He began setting up the tent while you looked around. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary—nothing suspicious for the demon to use. Were you really here just to camp?

“The goal: your eyes to adjust.”

Fyodor had finished and had been looking at you for some time—smiling, at the way your brows furrowed and how you were still lost with this entire night.

“What-?” you asked as he walked over to take your sleeping bag. You followed him as he set it right next to his.

“Sit next to me, lyubov,” he said, guiding you down. “I’ll tell you the secret to getting directions up here.”

He tilted his head up, and for the first time, you noticed an entire galaxy before you.

…

Drenched under the vastness of the dark skies and lights of the stars, Fyodor began to speak.

“We’ve used star navigation for thousands of years,” he said. “Fifty-eight stars and thirty-eight constellations that we’re able to use, but you only need to locate the Ursa Major to find north and Orion to find west.”

You nodded. Perhaps this is what he had come here to do—find directions to something that no GPS or technology recorded. He had probably taken you along just because he thought you’d admire the view and how you did. Fyodor was right—the walk-up was worth this view.

It was like you were in a trance. You had seen stars, but nothing like this before. The entire Milky Way galaxy was visible to your eyes, countless little suns that seemed barely out of your grasp, even though they were millions of miles away.

“Fedya, how many of them do you recognize by name?”

“By now, I have them all memorized because I’ve found it helpful. If an apocalypse surged the earth, they would still be there. If the world ended, they would still be there. The cosmos remain untouched by us—they watch humanity dance from afar. The nomads knew this the best—when we traveled, we relied on nothing but nature.”

You wondered how many body transfers it took for him to retain them all. There were so many little lights in the sky, it seemed near impossible to be able to gather even half in a mind’s jar. You guessed tens of years at the least, and even with that time, you knew only he could do it.

“You commend them too, don’t you?” you spoke, taking a risk in guessing his views.

“Elaborate for me.” You made eye contact with him, and amethyst eyes fawned over by the night almost enticed you even more than the entire view of the universe afore you.

“You appreciate them, and everything else that lays on the earth after the sun sets because they hold no flaw. They aren’t blemished by the foolishness of people.

“You can be at peace with them because they are perfect, unlike us.”

“You’re right. The perfect mankind would be as pure as the sun and the stars—untainted by something as unnatural as abilities. That’s how I see it, but why group yourself in such faults?”

“Hm?” was the only sound you were able to get out, when he grazed his fingers along your face, cupping your cheek.

“Printsessa, you are perfect.” He spoke smoothly, rich accent making his words sound like a lullaby.

“Your soul dances with the kosmos. Something so divine—you are the harmony of something as beautiful as what we see tonight.

“You are the only one who matches the heavens; my love, you surpass the heavens.”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you only registered then that it was you two alone. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world with the witnesses to your love being the ends of the horizons, and that the universe who put on a show in the sky instead turned to watch you.

…

“Fedya…what was the mission?” you asked softly as you cuddled with him, your hands reaching for his silky hair as you lay on his chest.

You felt his smile. “You’re still so naïve, darling; you didn’t have to think so much. The mission was to bring you here. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out, has it not?”

SIGMA : i’ve never seen it before! (the aurora borealis) — he learns what love is through you.

“Sigma, baby, let’s go!”

The man had a slightly puzzled face as he let you eagerly lead him outside, past your home’s backyard—into the hills beyond. Other than the Sky Casino, it was your favorite spot, especially when you wanted some peace away from the rest of humanity and its industry.

Your lover was utterly confused why you made sure he did not fall asleep this evening. He always went to bed far earlier than you and rose while you were still lost in dream—perhaps snoring—but tonight you insisted.

And Sigma followed, even though he was at the verge of passing out from exhaustion—managing a casino was hard. He let you take his hand and direct him, even without a clue of where you were going.

Maybe that was what love was—blindly following another.

“I have a surprise.” You slightly turned your head back to look at him, and he swore he would remember this scene forever. His hand still clasped around yours, the warm glow of the back porch’s bistro lights cast upon your face, and your sweet smile—though it was dark outside, he felt that your smile lit up his world more than all the stars combined in the night sky.

The cosmos were a new thing for him. You had introduced watching the stars to him, in this special place beyond your backyard.

Immediately after his first time learning what the Big Dipper was, and that the little lights in the sky were actually much farther than they seemed, he called for a viewing deck to be created for the Sky Casino.

That way, even on nights away from you and home, he could still gaze at the same stars, and for you as well if you wanted to visit.

“Are we stargazing?” Sigma asked as you ran up one of the hills with him. He held a chuckle to himself. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You were so cute.

“It’s a little different this time,” you giggled, setting down a blanket for the two of you to sit. Before, you would bring foldable chairs, but you realized that they made it a bit difficult for you to cling onto Sigma when you wanted to cuddle with him.

“We should start to see it in just a few minutes,” you said, looking up.

“Okay…”

The stars were there as usual. Sigma had never thought that something as pretty as your heart could exist in something physical, but that was how he saw those small lights in the sky.

If only you knew that whenever you decided to talk about how beautiful the skies were at night, he wanted to say they were literally just a reflection of you.

As soon as the clock on your watch hit the next hour, you immediately grabbed Sigma’s arm in enthusiasm.

Now he was really starting to wonder what got you so jumpy.

“Hey! Do you see it?!”

Sigma caught himself so distracted by you that he was watching your face instead of where your eyes were looking at.

He blushed when you looked at him, but thankfully you remained oblivious to his embarrassment.

“The green light! Do you see it?”

Sigma looked up, and he saw what looked like sliver of green contrast the dusky sky.

“That’s natural,” you began to explain. “It works through the earth’s magnetic field colliding with the atmosphere.

“Watch how it dances.”

A show started to unfold before the two of you. Sigma watched as the small touch of light became even brighter, transforming into a ribbon. He watched as the ribbon began to travel across the sky, overtaking the darkness. He watched in awe as it was joined by another green stream, traversing the horizons together.

“Wow,” you both said in awe.

“It’s called the aurora borealis,” you spoke.

“You can see it regularly if you travel way up north, but it’s a rare event here.

“I wanted to experience it with you.”

Sigma turned to look back at you, butterflies in his tummy and a surge of warmth overflowing his heart when he met your face—cheeks glowing from the reflection of the chasma and your eyes full of adoration.

“With me?” Sigma asked.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling him up. “Look Sigma—a new color joined.”

He glanced up, seeing that a new hue had appeared, aligning itself with the green. A pinkish light had mixed itself in, creating a swirl of paints on the sky’s pallete.

It really seemed like the lights were dancing. And Sigma thought to himself—like me and her.

You seemed to have the same idea because you had taken his hands in yours and started to whirl him around. It was messy—a bit chaotic, but he let himself be dragged along for a bit until he got dizzy, because maybe love was blindly following someone.

Eventually, Sigma started laughing, and couldn’t be thrown around any longer. “Calm down, love!” He took control of the dance, guiding your steps so that it turned into a more organized waltz.

He became captivated when he twirled you around—even though you were in your pajamas, you couldn’t look any less beautiful. He had danced with you in ballrooms, in gardens, but this unrehearsed night was the most enchanting of all.

…

You two danced until your feet started to hurt and Sigma’s exhaustion finally got the best of him. Now, you lay together, watching the rest of the night’s act play out.

“Whenever I look at the nebulas, I only think of you now, you know,” you confessed. “Because even if you’re up there, and I’m down on earth, we’re still looking at the same stars together.”

“I think the same,” Sigma replied. “It’s like we’re always connected in some way.”

You nodded with a smile, but you realized Sigma wasn’t finished yet.

“Actually, it’s more than that. I can only think of you when I see those things because all beauty leads back to you. I see your kindness in the sun and your energy in these colorful lights. I see your perseverance in the moon and most importantly, how many hearts you’ve made shine in the stars.

“And whatever ends up the brightest at night is mine, because you’ve warmed my heart the most.”

Your own heart was beating fast, by how your lover had spoken so tenderly to you and by the way he had rolled over towards you so that he was so close now—his lips just shy of yours.

“Sigma,” you whispered, and then you pulled him into a kiss.

It was then he finally understood: love wasn’t about blindly following another, he followed you because you were a blessing of trust, carrying the stars of devotion on your hands.

i heard if you rb, u’ll be able to watch the stars w/ ur fav tn !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

this fic wouldn’t have ever seen the light, weren’t for @cheriiyaya (hi); thank u bby for encouraging me start to finish. <3 a lil prompt inspo for dazai & fyodor from her. ^_^

p.s. did i imply a past!love triangle in dazai’s scenario? yes. was i referring to the fyozai ‘til death we do art love triangle? maybe..! actually, for some rzn, i included many things here that foreshadow other fics coming soon. stay tuned :)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner by cafekitsune.

[yanderenightmare]

your vocab is really rich, what's ur secret

oh! uhm... excellent question!

Read! And every time you stumble upon a word you've never noticed before or know but don't often use, put it in a list, write down its meanings, and try using it the next time you write! (I'll put my list after the cut)

Read different things! Different authors and different styles, especially poetry! I mean, if you're looking to fatten your vocab, reading poetry is one of the best ways to do it. Poetic writers must search far and wide for the perfect words to create rhymes and rhythms and audibly pleasing sentences---they practically do all the work for you! Honestly, I am so serious about this. One of the best things you can do is buy a fat compendium of poetry with all different authors and eras. Get you some Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare if you want to hurt your head. Also! The same goes for music! Try listening to the lyrics---you'll probably hear some words you've never thought of using in your writing.

Here's a cheap trick for bilinguals---write something in your own language and put it through Google Translate. Honestly, I've found so many words just by doing this.

Every time you feel you've used a word too much, or anytime a word bores you to read, search up its synonyms and try using something you've never used before---don't stop the search until you're satisfied. Sometimes, it takes me more time to find just one word than it takes to write an entire post. Not only does this enrich your vocab, but you've probably just written a whole other sentence with newer meanings and more nuance!

Make your own synonym lists! Seriously! Because you can only find that many creative synonyms by searching up "word+synonyms."

Additionally! Think outside the box! Often, the best synonyms are those words that aren't actual synonyms at all. If you read poetry, you'll see poets use unorthodox words in place of something all the time---it's called a metaphor. Take flesh, for example---you can use fat, meat, muscle, brawn, beef---but you can also use cake, down, plume, pillow, softness, etc... I find this one especially useful for writing erotica, as you have to describe a lot of the same actions and body parts over and over and still make it interesting. (I'll add my synonyms list after the cut)

Also! This one is trickier, but instead of using words and synonyms, try making sentences that can replace the word instead---such as longer metaphors and fuller descriptions! This aligns with the literary device of "showing vs. telling." Of course, outright telling has its uses too and should not be disbarred entirely from writing, but often, it's showing that persuades the reader more. For example, instead of saying nervous, make sentences that describe how the character in question showcases nervousness---does their throat close up, do they sweat, do their eyes go wide, do they stutter, do they fiddle with their fingers, pick their nails, bite their lip, kick the ground, hunch their shoulders, look away, blush, flush, cry, run away or do they feel stuck? Describing these things helps the reader better understand the type of nervousness the character is experiencing. Hence, it makes for not only more interesting writing but also clearer writing!

A similar literary device is "focus and expanding," which slows down the reading or puts focus on certain aspects of the text by describing something to a great extent. If, say, this nervousness the example character is experiencing is of great significance, then that's what the readers' takeaway should be. But the reader won't think too much of it if the text simply states that they're nervous without underlining it. Luckily, there are plenty of ways of doing that, firstly through showing vs. telling, such as in the examples above, then metaphorically, such as "the ground seemed to swallow him up, down the guzzle of a monster with an appetite for disaster---darkness ensued like a storm cloud, cold and clawing with a weight heavy enough to nail him to the spot---all eyes were on him, unblinking and all-seeing, no matter what, he couldn't escape, he was stuck, glued to the ground by the soles of his shoes." I mean, the options are truly endless. These metaphors piled together are also a form of focusing and expanding, but you can take it even further than that by focusing on a small detail and giving it significance. For example, say the character is sweating because he's so nervous---you might focus on a single droplet of sweat instead of everything else, "A chill ran down his back. No, not a chill--sweat. Cold and creepily tracing the rigid bones of his spine. He can't move--if he moves, then they'll see. The sweat will seep into his shirt, and everyone will know what a sweaty and pathetic wreck he is. So, he can't move. No, yes, leave it alone. The droplet continues, running down the cold skin of his clammy back, sliding undeterred until meeting the band of his boxers and disappearing in the fibers. He swallows thickly and sighs with relief--only for another to pill at his nape, tracking the same course as the former. A vicious cycle is forming. He needs to get out of there!" And that's focus and expanding, folks! Focusing on something minuscule and expanding it by using it to describe what the character is feeling. It's a way to have a fresh take on something that's been written a thousand times before, such as "he was nervous."

Anyway, I might have gone a little above and beyond, but really, all these literary devices are ways of "expanding vocabulary" or at least giving an impression of it.

NEW WORDS

Manically---like a maniac

Despotic---like a dictator, having unlimited power over someone, often using it unfairly and cruelly

Chasm---a deep fissure, like a ravine, wound, or metaphorical rupture

Shunts---track-change basically, scoots to the side

Dearth---a scarcity or lack of something, a shortage

Raucous---making a harsh or loud noise

Innocuous---not harmful or offensive---harmless and safe, but also bland and unremarkable, maybe even a little boring

Lanyard---the woven necklace of a festival pass

Gossamer---fine spiderwebs, almost mesh

Cossetted---care for and protect in an overindulgent way

Beribboned---decorated with many ribbons

pupil-fat---cool way of saying enlarged pupils

Chitters---snickers, like a bird

Decadent---corrupt, depraved

Blotting---either soak up and absorb, or stain, or obscure

Barbell---a bar “pole” with attachments on each side

Bunting---of animals, when they butt or rub their head against you

Garnet---red

Cherubic---angelic, plump cuteness, quality of a child

Haunches---hips

Sodden---soaking

Waxing poetic---speaking in a flowery or poetical fashion

Inkwell---a container for ink---a dark well

Rend---tear in two, or more pieces

Ebb---recede, go back, like a tide wave

Webbed---like a duck's feet

Cloying---sickly sweet

Saccharine---oversweet

Apple of your cheek

Swathes---wrap, swaddle

Shroud---obscure something

Moonstone---to describe something grey and dusty, but pretty

Kinked---tangled, messy

Leaden---heavy, dull, slow or the colour of lead, grey

Stygian---devoid of light and brightness, hellish

Flaxen---of hair, champagne colored---ashy blonde

Tepid---lukewarm

SYNONYMS

Related to sucking cock:

Swallow

Glug

Drink

Eat

Guzzle

Receive

Take

Suck

Suckle

Slobber

Gargle

Gurgle

Drool

Gulp

Gobble

Stuff

Glut

Choke

Gag

Lap

Lick

Kitten-lick

Slurp 

Allow entry

Related to kissing:

Kiss

Lock/brush lips

Tongue-feed

Suck faces

Smooch

Peck

Snog

Canoodle

Related to biting:

Bite

Graze

Nip

Nibble

Sink teeth into

Chomp

Related to crying:

Whimpering

Mewling

Bleating

Whining

Snivel

Sniffle

Cry

Sob

Bawl

Hiccup

Spluttering

Blubbering

Coughing

Croaking

Related to pre-cum:

Ooze

Leak

Weep

Well

Drip

Dribble

Flow

Drain

Bleed

Sweat

Seep

Pill

Pearl

Cry

Related to fear and panic:

Hysterical

Wild

Manic

Uncontrolled

Unrestrained

Frantic

Frenzied

Restless

Hectic

Sporadic

Swivel-eyed

Related to screaming:

Scream

Yell

Wail

Yelp

Yip

Yammer

Squawk

Howl

Squeal

Shriek

Related to moaning:

Moan

Whine

Yelp

Purr

Hum

Croon

Related to overstimulated moaning:

Mumble

Croon

Warble

Quaver

Burble

Bumble

Hum

Slur

Ramble

Mutter

Whisper

Stammer

Stutter

Scramble

Jumble

Muddled

Babble

Blubbered

Splutter

Blurt

Related to groaning:

Groan

Grunt

Growl

Grumble

Grouch

Hiss

Guttural

Feral

Rusty 

Throaty

Wet

Sloppy

Related to angry noises:

Howl

Roar

Bark

Grizzle

Grump

Related to surprise or fear:

Gasp

Gulp

Choke

Suck in a sharp breath

Flinch

Jump

Jostle

Wince

Hiss

Pull back

Related to comforting:

Coo

Fuss

Comfort

Hush

Shush

Tsk

Mollycoddle

Nurse

Cuddle

Babying

Consoling

Soothe

Loving

Smothering

Hug

Hug tight

Cocoon

Snuggling

Swaddling

Rock back and forth with

Cosseting

Petting

Overwhelm

Related to begging:

Beg

Pleading

Pray

Bargain

Related to soreness and pain:

Ache

Sore

Throb

Swollen

Fattened

Welted

Related to taking cock inside entrance:

Swallow

Receive

Take

Suck inside

Stuff

Fill

Allow entry

Submit to

Ease inside

Bully inside

Squeeze inside

Force inside

Push

Pry

Related to how the hole squeezes:

Kissing

Fluttering

Hugging

Pressing

Squishing

Squeezing

Tightening

Pulsing

Related to a wet hole:

Slush

Squelch

Squishy

Creamy

Sloppy

Wet

Soaked

Slosh

Sop

Cry

Slick

Weep

Drool

Gush

Swollen

Velvety

Gummy

Cotton

Silken

Satiny

Related to thrusting:

Squeeze into

Pound

Jam

Ram

Rut

Loll

Rock

Thrust

Stuff

Bottom out

Fill

Fit

Nestle

Cram

Prodding

Poking

Kissing

Hammering

Jack-hammer

Smack

Slap

Ream

Related to pleasure:

Ecstatic

Opium-eyed

Euphoric

Elated

Thrilled

Blissed-out

Rapturous

High

Cloudy

Numb

Related to overstimulation:

Overstimulated

Outdone

Aching

Burning

Sweating

Feverish

Delirious

Febrile

Numb

Immobile

Dazed

Dull

Related to being dumb, high, or overstimulated:

Ditzy

Dumb

Clumsy

Silly

Foolish

Giddy

Brainless

Dizzy

Fuzzy

Dopey

Whimsical

Fickle

Featherbrained

Daft

Hare-brained

Awkward

Graceless

Blundering

Bumbling

Klutzy

Clueless

Cloddish

Dense

Related to the body and the flesh:

Tender

Supple

Soft

Creamy

Plush

Doughy

Cakey

Downy

Pillowy

Malleable

Squeezable

Biteable

Pliable

Touchable

Putty

Plume

Related to cuteness:

Cute

Cherubic

Adorable

Sweet

Soft

Precious

Darling

Lovable

Endearing

Baby

Related to weak or smallness:

Breakable

Brittle

Weak

Fragile

Dainty

Delicate

Frail

Flimsy

Vulnerable

Petite

Small

Little

Tiny

Feeble

Defenseless

Powerless

Helpless

Worthless

Hopeless

Related to struggling:

Struggle

Winding

Striving

Straining

Toiling

Playing

Wriggle

Wiggle

Twist

Shake

Tremor

Shiver

Quake

Related to men:

Vulgar

Loud

Oafish

Rough

Rude

Rustic

Gruff

Gross

Doltish

Barbaric

Bearish

Beastly

Churlish

Coarse

Swinish

[manikas-whims]

someone may have probably already said this, and maybe worded it more eloquently but i wanna dump this thought out of my system..

As we all assume, MC and Sylus were probably experimented on together..you know being cut open, maimed and straight up killed in innumerable ways to see if the aether core within them will bring them back to life or not..

I believe the Aether Cores inside MC and Sylus are not different ones but the same.

There's this good old thing called “unreliable narrator” or things like “omission of truth” due to narrative reasons because there are facts that even the characters aren't aware of..

Now..

no one in the story so far has properly described the aether core, and no one has actually seen what it looks like..just that it's inside MC. And now, due to MC’s knowing, we also know Sylus got one as well. So its safe to assume that its either a single aether core split in two. Or maybe even two aether cores that come together, form an inseparable pair of sorts.

And that it's the halves of the same core put inside MC and Sylus, or one part each of a dual set of the Aether Cores put inside them respectively. It would explain why MC feels an intense hunger when around Sylus..why she hears all these voices echoing in her head, the incessant need to devour him. And it would also explain the weird evol linkage or whatever its called when their wrists randomly bind together..?

Maybe it's actually the Aether Core’s parts trying to reunite whenever close by. Or maybe it’s a pair of Aether Cores that are actually inseparable. And i think if that's how the writers intend it to be, then it's beautiful and poetic ♡ that they just want to be whole again, and that the only way to do it would be for them to be together..

the FORCED PROXIMITY trope done right ♡

[dekariosclan]

NSFW Gale Headcanons (18+)

Some (soft and sexy) thoughts about being loved by the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Gale doesn’t “dabble” in things. He has no interest in being a Jack of All Trades. No, Gale wants to master things. He wants to be the best at things: Magic, the Weave, Wizardly knowledge, etc. For him, true joy isn’t in trying something different, but in becoming an expert in his favorite subject. And guess what? His new (and permanent!) favorite subject is YOU.

Gale, while waxing poetic, has often compared himself to a book: “I require only your gentle hands to turn my pages.” And this is true of how he thinks of you, as well. You are his most treasured Tome, one that he intends to study thoroughly again and again, delighting at finding new passages that he may have overlooked, or finding new meaning in a sentence he’s read a thousand times before. And like a beloved novel written by a favorite author, he will never grow tired of reading you.

But he wants more than to just understand you. He wants to know how to captivate you, the way that you’ve captivated him, body and soul. He loves you more than anyone, and he wants to show you, in more ways than just words and professions of love will allow.

He wants to know exactly how to pull you into an embrace and where to place his lips on your neck to make you shiver. What words to whisper into your ear to make your knees go weak. He wants to know what secret fantasies you have, no matter how outlandish they may seem, because aren’t you clever? You’ve gone and made a wizard fall in love with you, and nothing is impossible for a man who can craft illusions with his hands—nevermind what he can do with his tongue.

And Gale wants to indulge you. He wants to please you, because he will never grow tired of seeing the endless depths of love and adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Something he never saw, no matter how hard he looked, or how long he looked, into Mystra’s eyes.

One important note: Gale is a monogamous lover. He is not a boring lover.

He wants to know how to make you cum the fastest. How to make you cum the hardest. He wants to make you scream his name so loudly that the Gods can hear it. He loves to taste you, after a grueling trek, after a cleansing bath, in the night or in the morning. He’s made it his personal mission to worship your body in every way possible.

Gale will run his fingers (and lips) gently over your scars. He doesn’t find them to be imperfections. They are key chapters in the story of you, and all the more precious because they make you real. A real human with real flaws, just like him.

Lingerie will be met with an appreciative rumble from Gale, (he always enjoys discussing what’s on your hind—ah, MIND…) but he honestly finds you gorgeous in all states: Dirty or clean. In or out of your armor. Naked or clothed.

He rather likes it when you tease him, especially on the battlefield, when his eyes are already drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The way you position yourself a certain way to allow him to see a hint of your naked thigh under your armor is always…appreciated.

But if you really want to drive him wild? Buy him a book detailing some new positions for lovemaking that you think he would be interested in (and that you haven’t tried yet) then watch as his eyes roll back in his head with pure lust. And if it’s a first edition copy? He might actually pass out as all the blood leaves his head for…another part of his body.

After you both have worn yourselves out reenacting the positions described, and often (at your insistence) more than once, he’ll lie awake thinking about how much he adores you until you both drift off to sleep.

And then…at other times…

…he’ll lie awake and stare up into the cosmos, his arm around you as you sleep with your head on his chest, and he’ll think of how he once dreamed of becoming a God. And how it was you, and the thought of losing you, that stopped his foolishness, and allowed him to rewrite his story. To prevent it from becoming a tragedy.

Then he’ll press a kiss into your hair, softly, so as not to wake you, and thank all the Gods above that he’s not one of them.

He couldn’t imagine how unbearable eternity would have been, if it meant he couldn’t have you.

[weaselle]

you know something i love about Terry Pratchett's trolls?

yes they are written very very dumb, for laughs, for instance most trolls can only count as high as "lots" (which is four. Troll counting goes: one, two, many, lots) and we all get a good giggle out of the stupid way they think and talk...

but because of the way he wrote his troll lore, under the right circumstances, trolls are actually far more intelligent than almost anybody else.

And there's something about the way, idk, it's just... i act stupid a lot of the time. Because i get lost in my head and distracted by ten thousand things, and given more than a split second to consider things i'll overthink and second guess my second guesses... but i know that i'm quite smart really.

And there are plenty of people who even more acutely experience some version of being treated like they are dumb while being, in fact, very intelligent if their particular needs are met.

and i just love that these trolls, often the butt of the joke and by far the most comically stupid of Terry Pratchett's fantasy races... when in the circumstances they are made for... turn out to be geniuses. There is something so poetic and cosmically Just, to have that be true. To have them actually be the most intelligent out of everybody if only you put them in the right environment.

[minisugakoobies]

Whipped | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, idiots to lovers, slightly crack-ish, non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Mingyu's a stubborn idiot, but he's also the softest human alive, Minghao's kind of a jerk tbh, use of they/them pronouns for reader, this is honestly just fluffy nonsense meant to give you warm fuzzies

Word Count: 3.9k

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: No matter what his friends say, Mingyu is definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not whipped for you.

A/N: Yep, another Mingyu fic. I can't help it. 🤷‍♀️

Unbeta’d as usual. If you liked this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

Kim Mingyu is not whipped.

This is what he forcefully reminds himself when you walk into Minghao’s party, looking sweeter than a spring day, a phrase which if he’s being honest is maybe a little more poetic than he’d normally use. That’s okay. He can be a little dramatic if he wants. Why not? Seokmin does it all the time and no one bats an eye.

In any case. Mingyu is not whipped.

That’s why he turns his head, pretending he doesn’t see you dazzle everyone around you with your beautiful smile. While he’s pretending, he also acts like he can’t feel his own lips tug upwards at the soft chime of your laughter, a Pavlovian response to your happiness. No, his smile is unrelated to whatever you’re doing. He’s just in a good mood, one that didn’t suddenly ascend to the heavens when you entered the room.

Mingyu’s not whipped.

He sinks further into the couch where he’s sitting, a little off to the side of where Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seokmin are talking. Theoretically, he’s part of the conversation, adding the occasional hum or laugh, but he’s really not contributing much of anything. He’s too busy thinking about you. Not like that. 

(But not not like that, either.) 

In any case, Mingyu remains firmly unwhipped - solid, unshaken, definitely not falling apart over you. He’ll be absolutely fine, as long as you stay on the other side of the room, where your charms can’t reach him. Except that he can’t stop watching you, and now you’re looking at him, and even though he averts his eyes, it’s too late. He can sense you walking towards him, his heartbeat increasing with every step you take.

Not. Whipped. 

“Hey there, stranger.” 

Instinctively, at the sound of your voice, he glances up at you, like a flower tilting its face towards your light. He nods at your greeting, mumbling a hello of his own. The others sitting around him all greet you as well, but you merely nod in reply, your full attention on Mingyu. 

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

If Mingyu had a list of things he loved about you, which he does not, being straightforward would be near the top. Of this totally fictional list that does not exist. He admires it, actually, the way you have no patience for dishonesty or deception.

Even though your question is blunt, your smile remains soft as you wait for his response, and Mingyu rethinks his ranking. Item number one on that imaginary list - the way you smile, at him, specifically. It’s so warm, like being hugged by the rays of the sun itself. It makes him happier than he ever thought possible. He wants to curl up like a cat and bask in the feeling. If he’s not careful, he might start purring right now.

He’s totally super normal about you.

“Me?” he asks, stalling for time, praying that a somewhat reasonable explanation falls into his lap in the meantime. He’s only a fair-to-moderate bullshitter, so his hopes are low. He can feel the others staring at the two of you, very obviously listening, because no one in your friend group seems to respect boundaries. It’s not helping. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you chirp back, and he does, he knows exactly what you mean, just like you know exactly what he’s doing. “You’ve been ignoring my texts. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is that Mingyu is not whipped, even if it feels like his insides are turning to melty goo beneath your inquisitive gaze. 

“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve just been busy,” he shoots, aiming for breezy and landing just shy of nonchalant. 

“Busy doing what?” 

“You know. Stuff.” Oh god, he really sucks at this. “And things.” Jesus Christ.

You fold your arms, and Mingyu thinks it’s cute the way you’re squinting at him, one eye closed as you assess his response. Unbearably cute, actually, and getting worse the longer it goes on.

“Yeahhhh, that’s not good enough,” you inform him, and with one hand on his arm (Mingyu ignores the electric current that lights up his nervous system when you touch him. It’s just static and definitely not anything else), you pull him to his feet and lead him out of Minghao’s apartment and into the empty hallway. He follows, not because he’d follow you anywhere, but because he’s curious.

Once the door is closed behind you, you turn to him, a serious expression on your face. “Gyu. Be honest with me.” Always, he thinks reflexively. “This is about what those guys said the other night, isn’t it?” 

Of course you know exactly what it is that has his head spinning right now. The two of you have been friends for ages, but Mingyu still can’t get over how easily you always seem to read him. 

A few nights ago, Mingyu and you had been out to dinner with a few others, and it had been like any other time you were hanging out with your friends, lots of laughing and teasing and just being happy dumbasses together. Only on this particular evening, the food had taken a very long time to arrive, but the drinks kept coming in the meanwhile, and you’d gotten a little drunker than usual, and a little clingier, sticking to Mingyu like a magnet.

Not that Mingyu minded having you hanging on his side all night. Nor did he mind keeping a close eye on you, making sure you were drinking your water and eating to help soak up some of the alcohol. None of that bothered him at all - you were his best friend; why wouldn’t he take care of you? Especially when you smiled at him and thanked him for being so sweet, so good to you, over and over.

(He can’t even begin to explain how that made him feel.)

The others noticed. And commented. Mingyu tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t shut up. By the time they joked that Mingyu was your trained puppy, suggesting you buy him a pretty collar and a leash to go with it, he’d had enough.

And when he tried to express that, Minghao had shut him down with a scoff, a wave of his hand, and one word. 

“Whipped.” 

Mingyu admits that he’s a lot of things, but he’s not a whipped man. He’s not. He’s not, no matter what the others say. No matter how you’re looking at him right now, concern etched all over your lovely face, lip tucked between your teeth as you wait for his answer. He’s strong. And proud. 

(And maybe a stubborn idiot, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He considers just not responding at all, but he knows how persistent you are, so he settles for a half-shrug. You sigh, leaning back against the wall, arms crossing in front of you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” you say softly, shaking your head. “They were joking. They said so! And you know I didn’t take it seriously for a second.” 

“You didn’t hear everything they said!” he protests, crossing his own arms. You’d missed most of the barbs flying his way that night, too busy enjoying yourself. Which weirdly made him happy. He hated the thought of those guys ruining your night. “They said I was your pet!” 

“So? Jeonghan always tells Seokmin he’s got the zoomies when he gets hyper. He knows he’s not actually a dog! It’s just stupid jokes! Our friends are dumb!” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “That’s what we like about them!”

Mingyu can’t help it, he starts to laugh with you, but then he catches himself, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.” 

“Then help me understand.” 

How can he help you understand, when he’s not entirely sure he understands it himself, this storm inside him, clouding his mind? 

“I…” He glances wildly around the hallway, but there’s nothing out here to help him. He can hear the bass from whatever song is playing inside the party, a low, steady thrumming that contrasts the erratic thumping of his heart. “I don’t like being called weak.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what they said?” 

“Yeah. Or I guess… they implied it. When they said I was whipped for you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing he’s pouting and it doesn’t help his defense, but it’s just his default setting. “But I’m not.” 

Because he’s staring into your eyes as he speaks, he catches it - the quick expression of sorrow that pinches your brow at his explanation - but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant. If he weren’t watching your face so intently, he would’ve missed it. 

“Gyu,” you sigh, the corners of your mouth lifting in what is clearly meant to be a smile, except it doesn’t reach your eyes, and for a moment, the confusing tide of emotions inside him still, and he feels only sadness. That’s not how you smile. “Can you please let it go? Everyone was being an idiot. That’s nothing new! Besides…” You trail off, staring at the floor.

He waits a beat. “Besides what?”

You huff and shrug. “It’s nothing, forget it.” 

The uncertainty in your tone unnerves Mingyu even more than your fake smile. Where’s that directness of yours? 

“No, tell me. Besides what?” 

With a deep breath, you look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m not delusional. I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type.” 

Your voice grows quieter at the end of your sentence, just as the music coming from the other side of the door fades out, and to Mingyu, the silence only amplifies your words, leaving them ringing loudly in his ears like a sonic boom. You’re not his type?

He blinks rapidly, as if that will somehow help. 

“You - you’re not - “ He pauses, searching fruitlessly for the end of his sentence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Right. I’m not.” 

The laugh you let out sounds so fake that he winces, and a terrible realization hits him. You’ve taken his stammering to be a complete thought - a confirmation of what you’d said, that you aren’t someone he’d like like that. Curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your stomach, you shrink away from him, only a few inches but the distance feels so vast. 

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” 

Mingyu’s speechless. As his silence grows, so does the space between the two of you, until you’re standing by the door, hand on the knob. He feels like he should be doing something right now, snapping into action of some sort, but his brain is still stuck on your declaration.

“Okay,” he finally croaks, because it’s clear that you’re waiting for him to speak, and he doesn’t know what else to do but agree with you, because you’re usually right and he usually agrees with you. 

“Right,” you say again, but you look slightly unsure, and it rattles Mingyu, making him feel even more unsettled than before. “Okay.” And then you open the door and slip back inside Minghao’s apartment.

Alone in the hallway, Mingyu slumps against the wall. Well. That was a spectacular failure. He’d tried to explain how their comments upset him and all he’d done was upset you. The shift in your demeanor was so obvious to him, a flashing neon sign basically screaming “you fucked up!” in blazing red light. 

He gives himself a minute to try to pull himself together, then he returns to the party. As soon as he’s inside, he scans the room, until he finds you standing in the corner, hanging out with another friend, Chan, talking and laughing like everything is fine. Which, as Mingyu feels deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows it is not. 

His previously vacated spot on the couch remains open, so he slips back into it, ignoring the curious looks of his friends. He doesn’t want to answer any stupid questions right now, doesn’t want to deal with any of their crap while he tries to wrap his head around what just happened in the hallway. 

Naturally, his friends immediately start nosing into his business.

“What was that all about?” Minghao asks, turning to face Mingyu. Seokmin and Jeonghan both twist towards him, eager to hear his answer. 

“What was what about?” Mingyu replies, eyes flitting to you again. Chan must be bringing his A game with his jokes tonight, because you’re giggling Mingyu’s favorite giggle, the one that makes your nose twitch like a little bunny’s. It always makes him swell with pride when he coaxes it out of you with one of his dumb jokes, so seeing it right now and knowing he’s not the cause of it, well, it’s not exactly helping improve his mood.

“What was that dramatic exit?” Minghao gestures towards the door. 

“It was nothing. We were just talking.” Again he looks at you. And again, your attention is focused solely on the man beside you. Mingyu doesn’t understand. Can’t you feel him looking at you? 

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jeonghan drawls, miming the crack of a whip with his hand. Seokmin and Minghao crack up beside Mingyu, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to catch your eye. He wants to see you smile at him. Just one smile. That’s all he needs to make him feel better. 

His friends lose interest in teasing him when he doesn’t respond, and the conversation moves on. As does the evening. Mingyu bonds with the couch, not leaving except to grab refills of his drink, but otherwise he’s a fixed point in this party, unlike you, who are constantly moving, floating from friend to friend, spreading joy across the room.

Spreading joy to everyone except him, that is. No matter how much he watches you, your light never shines on him again, not like it did earlier. He knows what this is. You’re the one doing the avoiding now. And oh my god does he hate it. He feels cold and lonely, withering away, dying for your attention. For your affection. Because he needs it to thrive.

Oh. 

Oh wow, he’s stupid. The others are right. 

Kim Mingyu is whipped. 

For you, and you only. 

Like it has been every few minutes since he returned from the hallway, his gaze is drawn back to you, and this time, it’s different. Because the mask you’ve been wearing all night finally slips, and Mingyu sees the wrinkle of your brow, and the slight downturn of your mouth, and he understands. You’re just as miserable as he is.

That absolutely will not do. He needs to fix this right now.

Mingyu rises to his feet again, not even waiting for Minghao to finish the story he’s been telling, not that he’s been listening anyway, and starts walking towards you. When he’s a mere arm’s length away, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have any plan, just an urgent need to make you look happy again. And also pay attention to him, because he needs your attention just like he needs you, so he panics, and grabs your hand. 

You look at him in surprise as his fingers slip between yours.

“Come with me. Please,” he adds, a bit hasty in his anxiousness, already tugging you out of the room and into the hallway. A pair of voices follow you both out, as Minghao and Jeonghan both jeer loudly at the sight of Mingyu dragging you away, but thankfully the door drowns them out, letting only the beat of the music through.   Which would be a good thing, except that now it’s just Mingyu and a very quiet you. With your hand still in his. 

“Is everything o-”

“You are my type.” 

You start speaking at the same time he does, but he’s louder, blurting his entire sentence out before you can finish yours. Your mouth freezes in an ‘o,’ and oh, Mingyu can’t believe what a dumbass he’s been for so long. How did everyone else see it but him? 

“I just. Wanted you to know. That you are the type of person. That I like.” Why can’t. He complete. A whole sentence? “Smart, funny, gorgeous….” 

You glance away from him, suddenly shy at that last word, and it just reinforces Mingyu’s point. 

Unfortunately, it does not make it any easier for him to say what he’s trying to say.

“But you’re not just my type? You’re the person I like. Hao’s right. They’re all right. I am whipped for you.” He frowns. “Damn it, I hate it when Hao’s right.” 

That makes you laugh, a quick “ha!” that makes your eyes light up, and Mingyu finds himself feeling stronger, so he doubles down. Might as well own it. 

“But he did, he got this one right. I’m down bad.” He brings your entwined hands up, clutching them in front of him, maybe pressing his luck a little, maybe laying it on thick, but it’s barely an exaggerated version of the truth if it’s not pure simple fact. 

“‘Gyu,” you groan, rolling your eyes, but there’s a twitch in the corner of your mouth that won’t cease, and it makes his heart sing. “Knock it off. I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, backing you into the wall behind you. Your hands are caught between you, and he presses the palm of yours against his chest, wondering if you feel the spike in his heartbeat when you inhale sharply. 

“Maybe you should tell me,” you say, eyes wide but voice calm, and again, he marvels at how you strike straight at the heart of the matter, and he decides he can do the same. 

“I’m telling you that I like you.”

The next few seconds are the longest in Mingyu’s life. Nothing has ever lasted this long in the history of time. Entire civilizations are built and fall within the blink of your eyelashes. You keep looking back and forth between his eyes, and he hopes that you see whatever it is you need to believe him, and tries his best to convey clearly what he feels. Even if he’s having trouble speaking his thoughts, at least his gaze can express it. 

“You like me…” 

He nods. “A lot.” Now that he’s said it out loud, it’s hitting him just how much.  

“You like me…” you start again slowly, frowning slightly, “but you don’t like it when others point that out?” 

“I just - “ Mingyu breaks off, a sharp puff of breath exploding out in frustration. How to explain it? “I didn’t like them saying it the way they did. It… it made me feel like they were calling me weak or something.” Your frown deepens and he stumbles on. “But - but that’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I - I don’t care anymore.” 

He clings to your hands, a lifeboat in a sea of turmoil, the warmth of your fingers locked between his giving him hope that this isn’t going completely downhill, this sudden confession of his. It’d be just like him to ruin this with his impatience. He’s always too eager. 

“So what do you care about?” you ask, gaze burning into his. 

And then there’s you. Always so calm and direct. God, he adores you. 

“You. How you feel.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, you lower your eyes, in the briefest of glances at his mouth, and Mingyu feels that electric shock again, tingling all the way to his fingertips. He barely breathes as he waits for you to speak.

“If you really are whipped for me,” you finally say, “you should go tell them that.” You jerk your chin in the direction of the door.

If that’s what you want, then that’s what he’ll do. Without a second’s hesitation, Mingyu spins, his hand gripping yours to pull you back into the apartment with him. 

Seokmin gawks openly as Mingyu stomps across the room. Minghao and Jeonghan exchange a glance that last night would’ve set Mingyu spiraling, but now rolls off him like water. Mingyu comes to a stop directly in front of his friends, squaring his shoulders, trying frantically to corral his thoughts into something coherent. 

But before he can open his mouth, Minghao leans forward, placing his chin in his hand. “Shhh, guys, I think the puppy’s going to speak!” 

“Hao, shut the fuck up.” 

Minghao bristles when Mingyu snaps at him. Jeonghan and Seokmin both cackle, but then Mingyu glares at the two of them, and they fall silent. He takes a deep breath. 

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t care what you guys say about me anymore, because I like YN.” 

The words spill out of him so easily, not even the tiniest nudge needed. He glances at you to find you wearing a delighted expression and his heart goes buoyant again. He decides to ride the wave. 

“They’re amazing. I’d do anything to make them smile, so if that makes me whipped, then I guess I’m fucking whipped.” 

He’s facing you now, not caring if the others can see the obvious lovestruck look in his eye as he keeps talking, not to them, but to you. Aware that they’re probably all smirking at one another, because they figured it out before he did, but he doesn’t give a single goddamn. 

“I can’t get enough of their smile. And the way they laugh. I like how sweet they are. How honest.” Mingyu can’t stop talking at this point. It’s all gotta come out. “But never mean about it. Even when it’s something you don’t want to hear. Especially when it’s something you need to hear.” 

Your hand twitches in his with every sentence he states. He squeezes back gently as his statements get louder.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’d do anything to make them smile. I’d walk the ocean floor for them. Climb a volcano and surf the lava down barefoot. Capture a star fr-”

“Oh my god, we get it, you like them!” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Enough with the bad poetry.” 

“Also? We know.” Minghao snorts. “No need for the dramatic announcement, it’s not news.” 

Mingyu barely hears him, too lost in the way you’re smiling at him now. Forget his earlier rankings. This smile beats all the others. Shoots directly to the top of the list, which, now that he thinks about it, he kinda wants to write down and give to you, maybe framed. Or maybe he’ll stick it on his fridge - with a heavy magnet, of course, because it’s such a long list.

He completely loses all interest in the rest of the room, even though he’s pretty sure most of the party is staring at the two of you. Instead, he finds himself hanging anxiously on the breath you take, hoping for you to say something, to give him an indication of where things stand between you now. Because he knows you’ll be straightforward and get right to the point, whatever’s on your mind. 

You step closer, close enough for him to feel your soft laugh on his lips as you give him a look that sends his pulse rocketing. You’ve never looked at him like this before.

Forget a list. He’s gonna write a whole book. 

“Come on, whipped boy. Take me home.”

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© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.